


In Tent to Murder

by Conduitstreetcat, TheGreenFaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Camping, Criminal psychopaths discovering feelings, Drinking Games, Drunk Jim Moriarty, Drunk Sebastian Moran, Falling In Love, Jim Moriarty doesn't like camping, Killing, Lots of alcohol, M/M, Scotland, Sex, Truth or Dare, a bit of angst, funny with feels, hungover jim, mormor, oh shit, sleep in a bag!?, sylvan hellscape, the usual sex, what about my electric toothbrush?, what do you mean there's no electricity?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 90,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conduitstreetcat/pseuds/Conduitstreetcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenFaerie/pseuds/TheGreenFaerie
Summary: Jim Moriarty would never go camping in a million years... or so he thought!Until his Tiger hatches a scheme to kill a group of criminals in their compound in the woods... which involves setting up camp in order to spring their surprise.But first... Jim will have to survive the horrors of the great outdoors (insects in the air! fish in the water! drinking too much and having feelings!)And Sebastian will have to survive an adorable psychopath long enough to drag out his feelings for a lovelorn sniper.





	1. Some Sylvan Hellscape

"We could just camp out in the woods."

 

 

_"What? No. Think of something else."_

 

 

"It makes sense. There's no way we could get there without being noticed from miles away - if we're already there, we can just walk in at our leisure. The woods are dense near there - if we're half a mile away, they'd never spot us."

 

 

_I make a face. "Dense woods. Way to make it sound even less appealing, Sebastian! Not all of us were boy scouts, let alone special forces survival nuts. Hard no. Think of something else, I said..."_

 

 

I'm warming up to the idea now. Camping in a forest all night with Jim Moriarty getting cold, cuddling closer for warmth... waking in early morning sunlight to see those sleepy eyes open to the sound of birdsong...

"It'd be lovely... you said you'd never been camping. It's great - having sex in the fresh air... cuddling up together in a sleeping bag... waking up with birds singing, me making you coffee on a camping stove...

And - I can't think of anything else. They'd see us coming - there's only one access road, which is visible from miles up ahead - if you want to surprise them, you have to be there _before_ they are. Which means getting there the day before, before the Gibiliscos arrive, so late afternoon at the latest. Then the next day, you can just wait until Boesch gets there and waltz in. Bob's your uncle."

 

 

_I narrow my eyes at you. "You're making it sound like a very picturesque romantic adventure, aren't you? Strange, because we don't normally do that before we waltz in and surprise people. If we *were* going to do that - might I suggest 'swanky luxury hotel' as a way to lure me in? Not sleeping in *bags* and drinking *camping coffee*..."_

_I think for a moment, staring at you. "You're sure this is the only way... it's not some strange courtship ritual for former SAS men? Are you going to skin something for me and give me the pelt?"_

 

 

"Sure - would you prefer Gibilisco or Boesch? Or both, and we can sew them together to make an interesting wall hanging? Look - there are no hotels - it's the middle of nowhere, Scotland. But it's beautiful there at the moment, not too cold - we could camp next to a babbling brook, catch fresh fish..." I catch your _look_ , "... or bring some nice baguettes and salads... some white wine that we can cool in the stream... see all the stars that you never get to see here in London... it's amazing, we may be able to see the Milky Way..."

I'm really getting enthusiastic now. This is going to be lovely. You'll love it, want to stay another night after we've disposed of the guys, want to tie me to a tree, whip me with a switch, fuck me three ways from Sunday...

 

 

_I catch the dreamy look in your eyes before you stifle it. What is going on with you? What is it about the outdoors that's getting you so hot and bothered... Am I missing something? Wait- *am I*? I have no idea... but if it's something amazing, then - I need to know._

_"All right..." I say dubiously. "But the food and wine better be to my standards, and I do *not* want to be handed a fresh fish. And you will bring the very best, high-end equipment there is, because if I lose my sleep... I'm burning down the forest and going home."_

 

 

I smile broadly as I see your resistance crumble and you give in, snigger at your resistance to fresh fish. You'd love it if it were prepared properly - you've _had_ fresh fish, but I guess it's only acceptable if it's prepared by some fancy cook in a seaside restaurant, instead of by me on a camping stove.

"No worries boss - SAS-standard gear, keeps you warm down to minus twenty, keeps you dry... Good insulation mattress... You'll be snug as a bug in a rug."

I'm all excited now. I'll go shopping straightaway - I have gear for one, but I've never managed to convince you to go camping with me. You're going to be warm and dry and comfy, Boss -

I leave the apartment whistling, get on my bike - OH! We'll have to travel there by bike, of course, because a car can't get into the woods and god forbid you _walk_ \- a nice off-roader - your hands holding tight onto me as I take corners at high speed... oh this is going to be _such fun_.

 

 

_I watch as you disappear out the door. You didn't even say *goodbye*, you just bounded off like Tigger. Does camping really excite you so much? I shake my head. Well, I'd better make my own preparations..._

_Moments later, I'm staring down at my open suitcase on the bed. So far, all I've put in it is a pair of warm fleece pyjama bottoms, a t-shirt and a hoodie. I'm not sure what to bring for the next day - I guess I won't be wearing my usual suit if we're traipsing through the woods. Jeans? Not exactly the impression I want to make...Trousers and a nice cardigan? Still doesn't make a statement. Ooh, I could wear my pea coat... I look threatening in that. What would go with my pea coat? I return to the walk-in closet, and scowl as I paw through my clothes. No - no- no-_

 

 

I'm in the outdoors shop, but they don't have the SAS-type gear... Oh well; it's going to be alright. I definitely am going to get these sleeping bags which zip together. A good insulation mat, you won't be cold, Boss... an inflatable pillow, a camping stove with pot, for coffee... a new water filter... I wish I could play the guitar so I could play and sing for you around the campfire...

I'm grinning like a loon when I get back home, my arms full of bags and boxes.

 

 

_I hear the door slam. It's about fucking time..._

_"Sebastian..." I call out. "Get your arse in here!"_

_When you appear at the door your expression goes from happy and excited to completely perplexed in a split second. At least a quarter of my wardrobe is on the bed, and another quarter is on the floor. I point at the mound on the bed - "This is the pile I haven't rejected outright. Which of these outfits would work for camping ... business... and the standard level of attractiveness?" I run my hands through my hair and start to pace. "I've made a Venn diagram if you care to see, but it's the *camping* I can't account for, Seb!" Why are you looking alarmed?_

 

 

Oh god. I've broken my boss.

I look from the piles of clothes - this is going to take you forever to hang up again - to the scribbled bits of paper - you _actually_ made Venn diagrams - to your exasperated expression.

_Don't laugh - don't laugh; he'll kill you - for god's sake, don't laugh -_

I burst out laughing.

Your eyes shoot daggers, but fortunately it's just your eyes, for now.

"Eh." I calm down before you're actually strangling me. "Right, boss. For the camping bit, you'll want something sturdy, washable, and reasonably warm. So - jeans and a jumper, thick socks, boots. Then for the business side of things, you can bring whatever you want, as long as it's crease-proof - you won't be able to carry a garment bag with you. Just - these slacks and a black t-shirt?"

You look like I suggested painting yourself green and running in naked.

"Look - we're going to kill them all eventually, aren't we? What does it matter what you _look_ like?"

 

 

_I look at you pleadingly and grab you by the shirt._

_“Sir, I seem to have fallen into some kind of alternate dimension - one where it doesn’t matter what you look like!” I fall to my knees, clasping my hands. “Would you kindly escort me to the portal back to my realm where things make sense... and my bodyguard doesn’t pick out unbecoming murder outfits for me? Please?” I roll my eyes and stand up._

_“Really, Sebastian? No garment bag? Can’t I at least fold it carefully in my suitcase?”_

 

 

Oh god we have unlocked full drama queen...

“You’re not taking a suitcase. We’re going by motorbike, so you’ve got saddlebags. Don’t look like that - the other option is to walk for 12 miles carrying your suitcase, if you prefer?”

I look through the options. “These trousers are creaseless. Then - you can keep a shirt folded flat, and a tie rolled... will you be able to survive without a jacket? Or do you have any ones that are made of nice artificial fibres that don’t crease?”

 

 

_"The jacket is what *makes* the outfit. Sebastian, I shouldn't have to explain this to you..." I start to pace. "Just a shirt & tie? What am I, the manager of a restaurant? Fuck it..." I start pawing through the mound of clothes, throwing pieces over my shoulder. "How's this? Would this be warm enough, and terrify you, and make you want to fuck me?" I hold up a black mock turtleneck jumper against me. "I could wear it with a pea coat?" I grab the coat and hold it next to the jumper. "Or the leather coat could work, too. Should I try them on so you can see?"_

 

 

“Yes to all three - it's warm, it's terrifying, and it makes me want to fuck you. And it goes great with the pea coat, but leather is better on the bike. Not that we're going to fall, don't worry. You know what - you can ask Gibilisco's and Boesch's opinion before you kill them. Have a survey on whether they would have preferred you to wear a nice suit to their last day, if it did anything for their terror levels, their willingness to speak, etcetera - shall I make a nice multiple-choice document? 'Would you say Mr Moriarty in a turtleneck is a) more or b) less terrifying than in a suit, or c) no difference?'"

 

 

_I blink at you and hold the coat out to look at it. "So *no* to the pea coat, then? What...? Oh, you're being *clever*... that's cute, Sebastian. Although it's an interesting idea... surveying people about things you're curious about, before you kill them - but I suppose there'd be no motivation to be honest, so that would skew the results significantly. Didn't think of that, did you?"_

_I look at the coat and throw it on the bed. "It really is a shame about the pea coat. Oh *god*, look at this mess..." I push past you. "It doesn't take much time for wrinkles to set in, I need to hang all this up right now. Why are you *looking* at me like that, Tiger? Image is important, as I keep trying to impart to you. Would you rather we just go kill them wearing pyjamas and then go out for breakfast?"_

 

 

”The pea coat is fine, Boss. It looks amazing on you. Makes you look all outdoorsy and rural and incredibly sexy.

And I'll make you breakfast before we kill them. Boesch is not likely to arrive before mid-morning. I'll... do you toast and eggs, shall I? No kedgeree with fresh fish, I take it? Nice coffee, with sugar, a bracing wash in the stream - you'll be shining with health and vitality when we get to them."

I start helping you hang your clothes back.

 

 

_I pause from hanging up clothes. "Bracing wash in the stream? Oh god, I didn't even *think*... In the *stream*... with the fresh fish?? I'll just take a shower before I leave, and when I get home." I pick up a t-shirt, hang it and smooth the fabric carefully. "And - we should just forego sex, I don't fancy splashing ice-cold water on my bits. But I do want to feel fresh for the murdering, oh *god*... Gibilisco and Boesch are going to *pay* for this..."_

 

 

Wait - forego sex!? No no nono NO, that will not do. I want to make love with you under the stars...

"I'll pack face wipes, shall I? And I'll heat up some water for you to wash in the morning. You'll be sparkling clean, Jim, don't worry..."

I whistle as I hang up your clothes. Oh, this is going to be _such fun_ \- I haven't been camping in _ages_ \- not proper camping with a tent and everything - slept out in the woods a couple of times, but that was just with a sleeping bag - fine for me, but you'd have my guts for garters if I suggested you slept in the open air.

 

 

_“Oh beautiful, face wipes and water in a cooking pot... just like the Ritz.” I look at you suspiciously as I continue to hang clothes. “You seem awfully *happy* about this, Sebastian. Are you sure you made this plan because it was the only option? It’s not some kind of... Christ, I don’t even know. I mean, you could just go camping some weekend if you like it so much... You don’t have to drag *me* into some sylvan hellscape. Is this really about the job?”_

 

 

"Of _course_ it is! Can't I mix business with pleasure? I like camping - hell, I love it - and you'll love it too. It's not going to be like we did in the army, all sleeping in the rain without tents and hiking for forty miles with a hundred-pound bag. It's going to be _luxury_ camping. All mod cons. And your own personal butler to do for you. Give it a try, boss - I'm sure you'll love it." Of course you will - why wouldn't you?

 

 

_"*Luxury* camping is called glamping, darling - and what you're describing is most assuredly *not* glamping. There's no bearskin rug or big, beautiful bed, or -" I sigh mournfully, "Bathroom facilities... Oh *god*... I'm going to have to go in the bushes, aren't I!! What part of this do you think I'm going to love??" I storm into the bathroom and slam the door._

 

 

"You want a bearskin rug? I can get you a bearskin rug, but I'm not sure how we'll get it into the saddlebags. You may have to not pack any clothes and go see the guys in jeans and a jumper... and how are you going to get a _bed_ into the forest?! Yeah, a bathroom is going to be hard, but no one is going to be there - do you know that squatting is a healthier way to eliminate? I'm saving you from haemorrhoids!" I shout at the slammed door. Oh my poor dear Jim... City boy extraordinaire... Wouldn't know milk came from a cow if you weren't a genius.

  

"Did you know you can get inflatable bondage beds? Want me to order one of those? Would it make you sleep better if I were safely cuffed by your side?" I call at the door, then go to my old room to get out my camping gear - tent, insulation mats, water containers, survival knife... anything else we'll need? I don't really think so...

 

 

_"No, because I need you to be able to protect me!" I yell. No response._

_What the hell is going on with you? I open the bathroom door, peer out... and determine that you've left the room. Left! Without saying a word, for the second time today..._

_In a huff, I hang up the remaining clothes and return the suitcase to the closet. A pathetically small, neatly folded pile of clothing is all that remains._

_Feeling suddenly morose, I go to your old bedroom and hover at the doorway. You look up in surprise from where you're crouching in your closet._

_"I find it ironic that you were joking about being safely cuffed by my side, and then you just... took off! I was still having a moment! You've left twice today without saying anything!" Shut up, Moriarty... shut up!_

_"And I was *going* to ask if I need to pack insect repellent and sunscreen and moisturizer and a mirror and toothpaste and lubricant, or if you're packing those. I'll bring my own hair products, deodorant and toothbrush, obviously..." I cross my arms. "Will we have a generator for electronics?"_

 

 

"You were in the bathroom! Normally you have a go at me if I talk to you while you're in the bathroom."

I point to the stuff laid out on my old bed. "I have insect repellent. I don't think you'll need sunscreen - we're in the woods. I've got toothpaste and lube, but unlike you, I don't have a skin routine..." I grin. You humph. "Just pack a washbag with whatever you need. And no, we will _not_ have electronics - what do you want electronics for?!"

 

 

_"I don't understand the question..." I say slowly. Cold is beginning to creep through me. "What if I need to charge something? My laptop...? My...phone?" I look at you with horror._

 

 

“Charge them before we go and don’t use them too much,” I shrug. You and your gadgets...

Tea lights, lantern for in the tent... torch... lighter and matches... metal plates and mugs... cutlery...

“Sorry, what?”

 

 

_I don't bother repeating my expletive. I just walk away, muttering._

_I don't even know where I'm going, but I soon find myself on the sofa with my laptop - stroking the keys, listening to the music of the rhythmic tapping. Why wouldn't you want me to have this... I *need* this..._

 

 

I've got everything ready; I've booked an off-road bike for tomorrow to be delivered to our hotel in Inverness, and I'm practically skipping as I set out our bags near the door. "Ready to go Boss? Off to sunny Scotland... It is actually quite nice there at the moment, though it gets a bit nippy at night - no worries, I'll keep you warm..." I grin.

 

 

_I look up in annoyance from my laptop. "Already? I need a few more minutes..." I snap. I can feel you watching me as I work, so I close my laptop with a loud click and storm off to my bathroom._

_Guess I won't be bringing my electric razor or toothbrush... I throw a few things in a large toiletries case - it has to be big enough for the mirror to fit. You'll just have to squeeze it into these amazing saddlebags._

_I look at my mournful face in the mirror. I'd been looking forward to taking out these two clowns, and now I can't even enjoy the anticipation of surprising them. Sullenly I pick up my pile of clothes from the bed, slide them into the waterproof bag you gave me, and head downstairs._

_"All right... let's get this shit-show underway..." I mumble._

 

 

I grin at your grumpiness. You're going to love it when we're there, I'm sure. I've been camping in Scotland when I was younger - it was beautiful, and the cabin where the marks are meeting is right in the middle of a national park. We might see reindeer, Scottish wildcats, golden eagles, beavers...

I carry our suitcases to the car, grin at you as we settle in for the long drive to Luton Airport. You look so sulky - maybe a game of blowjob in a car would cheer you up? I undo my seatbelt, move over to you, slide to my knees in front of you, move to kiss you.

 

 

_I allow you to kiss me briefly, then move my head back._

_“It won’t help.”_

_I look out the window, sulking._

 

 

Yeah, sure - I've never known a Moriarty not being cheered up by a good blowjob. Or failing that, at least it cheers me up...

I move my attention down to your crotch, start undoing your fly, liberating your beautiful cock. It doesn't look that pleased to see me yet, but that's surely a matter of seconds...

 

 

_“Believe it or not, Sebastian... not everything can be magically fixed by a blow job, even from you...”_

_I look down at you - you’re not responding, just gazing at my crotch. I sigh, grab your hair and pull your head down onto my cock. “Fuck’s sake...” I sigh then lean against the seat, eyelids fluttering shut._

 

 

It can't be magically fixed, but it can feel damn good, my Jim...

I get to work on your cock. Luton is halfway to Scotland, so we have plenty of time to tease, amuse, do all the little things I know you love so much... Pretty soon I have you groaning and your fingers digging into my hair.

 

 

_Damn... I'm trying to hold on to my bad mood (though the reasons why escape me at the moment)... but it's getting awfully difficult with what you're doing with your talented mouth and tongue..._

_I groan as you lick and tease..._

_Then I try to get annoyed that I can't remember why I was in a bad mood - that doesn't work either, because now you're taking me deeper into your mouth..._

_I moan as you suck harder, and then ease up on the pressure..._

_I whine as you move faster, and then slow down..._

_The rhythm is making me *crazy* - I'm throwing my head back against the seat and keening, and this finally makes you stop teasing and just blow me hard and fast..._

_My back is arching... my muscles are trembling..._

_And then I'm crying out as I come hard into your mouth, my body going into full spasm..._

_Jesus Christ... all the times you've sucked me off, and it still makes me have a goddamn meltdown every time..._

_I slump against the seat, gasping for breath._

 

 

That's better. I swallow your seed, making sure to keep licking and sucking your sensitive head, driving you crazy until you pull me off by the hair. I grin at you, put your clothing back into place, and hop back onto the seat, looking smug like the cat that got the cream.

Are you in a mood to reciprocate?

 

 

_"Well, maybe not a magic fix..." I pant. "But as a temporary solution, it's brilliant... Jesus, Tiger. You're amazing." I touch your cheek, lazily._

_"And I may not be grumpy for the moment, but I'm also not in the mood..." I yawn. "If camping is as wonderful as you say, then maybe I'll feel like it tomorrow night. You did say you were sure I'd *love* it... right?"_

 

 

Ugh, not even a quick handjob? I'll have to nip to the loos at Luton then - there's no way I can survive a plane ride with a raging erection, short though it's going to be.

"Of course you'll love it. The weather is looking to be clear - though obviously the weather in Scotland is a lot like your moods - unpredictable and often nasty - but I'm sure it will be lovely. And our tent is waterproof if it does rain - but it won't. The woods are lovely this time of year - there will be blackberries, elderberries, sloes, rosehips..."

I look at your face.

"Or, you know, lovely leaves and stuff to look at..."

Still not impressed.

"It's going to be great, Boss. You'll have to experience it to believe it. It's so quiet, so lovely... No emails, no calls, no car noises... Just the stars, the owls, the fresh air... It's beautiful."

 

 

_“Oh, the endless local flora and fauna... oh, the thoroughly expected features of nature... *My god*, that sounds beautiful and lovely..." I yawn again, and blink at you._

_"Nasty moods, Sebastian? Well, you'll see a very special nasty mood up close and personal if I don't get a decent night's sleep. At least we'll be in a hotel tonight, so I can forget about my upcoming trials and tribulations for one evening..."_

 

 

I grin. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

Oh, if looks could kill... but even you have not perfected that art quite yet.

When we get to Luton and on the plane, you seem to mellow a bit, drink the champagne the stewardess gives you, tap away on your laptop as I read my book - the Wild Guide to Scotland. I knew that would come in handy some day. I’ve been wanting to go camping in Scotland forever - and now I get to do it _with_ you. Oh, it’s Christmas. I can’t wait to be alone in the woods with you...

 

 

_The flight passes quickly, and before too long, we're checked into the hotel in Inverness._

_After our confused-looking bellhop brings in our very unsophisticated, unposh baggage, and is tipped and nudged out by you, I throw myself on the king-sized bed._

_"*This* is how you get a good night's sleep for killing..." I say, sitting up and bouncing on the bed. "Not sleeping on a bed of reindeer droppings and elderberries. Although, elderberries are protection against the fairies, you know - if we're in the Scottish wilderness, we may have to contend with them, too..." I roll my eyes._

_"Well! We're still in some semblance of civilization, so let's take advantage... I'm hungry, and I want to eat and drink the most luxurious things Inverness has to offer. Shall we find the snootiest dining establishment in town?" I smile at your expression. “Come *on*, Tiger... I’m going *camping* tomorrow. I *need* this!!”_

 

 

Ugh. I hate snooty establishments. The people, the waiters, the atmosphere, the voices... _everything_ grates on my nerves. Though with some luck at least the voices here will be Scottish instead of English...

I had expected you to need this though, so drag my tailored suit out. At least it makes you look at me with hungry eyes - that's always a bonus. You're on the internet and deciding on a place called 'Terpsichore' which sounds like _exactly_ the type of establishment I wouldn't want to be found dead in.

A taxi takes us along the river to a leafy hill on top of which sits an impressive mansion. White-gloved attendants accompany us to a posh dining room. I roll my eyes. All chandeliers and gold and red carpet... fuck's sake Jim... can't we just get haggis and whisky at a local pub? Sample the _real_ Scotland, rather than this type of establishment which is the same all over the fucking world?

 

 

_We’re seated at a table, where they take our drink orders and hand out menus like they’re delivering stone tablets with religious revelations._

_They leave us, sweeping away from the table with elegance and grace._

_“Oh, wipe that look off your face - you look like you’re going to jump across the table and strangle our server. It’s not his fault they don’t carry the shitty beer you wanted. Now... who do you want to be tonight? Arguing newlyweds? Blind date where it turns out I was the other man from your previous relationship that ended due to adultery? Or... Tiger’s choice. What’s it to be, darling?”_

 

 

Oh, we get to play? OK, that may be fun. And it's even more fun if it's not part of a job, but just a game. What do I want... I could never be as creative as you are. Besides, arguing newlyweds is my favourite. I lean over, whispering under my breath, "Arguing newlyweds. I just found out you shagged your ex-boyfriend during our engagement, and this is your attempt at wooing me back. I'm not going to leave you - both you and I know that; you're too rich and I'm a pretty boy who's getting past his prime and is delighted with a sugar daddy like you, but I do take the chance to have a good pout and make you promise lots of presents to mollify me."

 

 

_I grin. “I like it. I’ll be Kieran, you be Ashton. Don’t make that face. It’s a beautiful name, darling. You should be proud of it.”_

_A server approaches the table with our drinks - white wine spritzer for me, whisky for you._

_“We’re celebrating,” I say giddily to the server. “It’s been one month since we wed... and I consider myself the luckiest man on earth! Cheers to you, darling!” I raise my glass._

 

 

I raise my glass, a sullen pout on my face. "Not that that stops him from shagging others," I complain to the waiter, who is _very_ uncomfortable with my unwelcome honesty, but is too posh to show it.

 

 

_“Ashton! I thought we weren’t going to talk about that with strangers any more,” I say through a tight smile. “The servers don’t care about our relationship dramas. Do you?” I say archly to the server, who looks horrified and stammers something about wishing us a happy life together. “See?” I say triumphantly. “*He* doesn’t care, and he wishes us well! Do *try* to be happy tonight, won’t you honey-pie?”_

 

 

"Well, my _darling_ ," I say in my aspiring middle-class accent, "I would be _so_ much happier if I thought you genuinely _loved_ me, and aren't just with me for my body. I mean - I'm away for _two weeks_ with my friends, and you already can't keep it in your pants? But you talk about _love_? When we got married - I genuinely thought it was the happiest day of my life!" I brush away a tear or two as I knock back my whisky. "Another."

 

 

_I put my glass down heavily and it knocks against the empty plate and silverware with a loud clatter. People around our table look over, and the server seems frozen._

_“Of course I *love* you, Ashton - don’t be absurd. And what were *you* doing leaving in a huff for two weeks during our first month of marriage! It broke – my – heart -“ I dab my eyes with a linen napkin. “Anyway, I thought we were going to try to get past that, love bug... “ I whine. ”That’s what this weekend is about... I’m ready to order, are you?”_

 

 

"I guess." I say, stroppily. I glower at the waiter. "I said another." He scurries off with my glass, presumably to refill it.

I hand the menu to the other waiter. "I'll have the most expensive starter, main course, and dessert. Don't worry - he can afford it. And keep the whisky coming. And get me a beer. A lager."

 

 

_"Darling, you did promise me you wouldn't drink too much this weekend," I say, putting my hand on yours._

_I turn to the server. "He's still upset about a certain incident. But don't worry, we're not going to talk about it anymore. I'll have the kale salad to start, and the pork tenderloin. And the chocolate mousse looks scrummy. *Thank* you." I hand the sever the menu and beam at you._

 

 

" _I'm_ not the one who can't keep it in his pants when he's had too much. _I_ can drink this bloody place dry and still only have eyes for you. Whereas you - you're away all the time, on _business_ , leaving me tossing and turning in our empty bed, wondering who you might encounter... it would drive anyone to drink!"

 

 

_The server scuttles away with the menus, and I quickly grin at you before my face turns placating. We definitely still have an audience, as the surrounding tables keep abandoning their conversations to steal glances at us._

_"Lemon-pie, I apologized for that so many times... what will it take for you to forgive me? Oh! When we get home, something's being delivered that I think you'll like. A nice SUV. I don't know anything about models, but the man at the lot was very helpful and assured me this was the one to get. Will that make you happy, my darling husband who I love so much?" I take your hand, kiss it and press it to my cheek._

 

 

I let my face soften a bit. "... what type?"

"A Kia Sorento?" you say. "Black, of course... tinted windows... custom tiger-print seats... diamond-studded lucky dice hanging from the rear-view mirror... "

I have trouble not to burst out giggling, take a sip from my beer instead.

"I like toys... give me something to play with when you're not there... I get _so lonely_..."

 

 

_"Oh, sweetheart..." I coo. "I'll give you whatever toy your heart desires. The sky's the limit, pumpkin. Now can we kiss and make up..?" I move my chair around the table, and lean in to kiss you long and hard. Somewhere along the way, the kiss becomes real and we're making out like teenagers in the middle of the dining room. I hear a piece of silverware fall against a plate, and I open my eyes._

_"Oh," I say softly. "That was nice, honey-pie..."_

 

 

"One second, light of my life..." I smile at you and turn around - there. Some posh twat quickly puts his phone down, but honey, if you are going to take a sneaky picture, you really want to turn the sound off.

I walk over, smile my entirely reasonable smile. I'm just a toy boy, after all - all the muscle for show only.

"I'm sorry, did you just take a photograph of my husband and me?"

He flushes, isn't sure what approach to take - his wife damns him by coming to his aid. "He took a photo of me - said how lovely I look tonight-"

The posh git nods gratefully. I glance at him. "Oh, how sweet - could I see the picture?"

"It's - private -" he tries, getting red.

"I can see how lovely your wife looks - she's sitting right there! Are you sure you didn't accidentally take a picture of us?" I take his hand which is holding his phone, squeeze.

He is getting pale now, moving through a quite alarming shade of pink. "Could I have a look?" I ask, still friendly, though I'm squeezing harder. Eventually he has to pull back his fingers and I'm left holding his phone. I click on 'Photos', and lo and behold, it's us. Zoomed in, no less.

"Wow. You really must work on your aim. It does appear you have accidentally taken a picture of us... I'll help you delete it, shall I?"

I drop the phone in a nearby vase, holding _real_ flowers, because this is a _posh_ restaurant, and therefore also holding _real_ water.

"Hold on-" the guy protests, getting up. Oh really? I step closer, look down at him, show him - just for a second - my killer face.

He sits back down.

"It was an outdated model anyway," I console him, then walk back to our table. Your face is unreadable - are you delighted at what I did, or outraged that I drew attention to us?

 

 

_“Ohhh, lover... did you do that for little me?” I squeak. “You know how much I *hate* having my picture taken...” My voice goes dark and I smile furiously at the man and his wife. “Especially without permission. Imagine!” I turn back to you, grab your hand and squeeze it. You’re amazing, Tiger - always on top of everything, without a word from me. “I can count on you to take care of everything, can’t I...” I say in a low voice, gazing at you. Your eyes meet mine and it’s like an electric current passes through me. Huh. “Isn’t that right, dollface?” I say quickly, and take a long drink of my white wine spritzer. Did the room suddenly get hotter?_

 

 

“I know, cupcake...” I smile back at you. “Some people are _so rude_... Don’t worry, my dove, I will protect you. You know you can always count on me.”

My character appears to be speaking words that the real Sebastian doesn’t dare... we’re staring at each other over the starter plates which have arrived, and electricity sparks almost visibly. I stroke the back of your hand, pull it towards me to kiss it... god you’re so fucking hot...

Cut it out Moran. You’re a soldier. A bodyguard. Your boss is a great shag. That’s all.

 

 

_The entire universe seems to consist of your lips on my hand... and then your eyes holding my gaze. Jesus. What the fuck is going on? This character is getting to me... I wave a server over._

_“White wine spritzer.” I look away from you to start on my salad._

_“How’s your expensive starter, my angel?” I ask sweetly._

 

 

I look at my plate. I have no idea what it is - it smells fishy.

I realize I'm still holding your hand - I let go, poke into one of the otherworldly shapes on my plate, raise my fork to my mouth. Yup, it's fishy. Or at least seafoody.

"Absolutely delicious, my love..."

 

 

_I hold back a laugh. You don’t look enamoured with it, but you’re not picky so you eat every bite. By the time the main course arrives, your eyes light up when a plate with a large steak is placed before you. “That’s more like it, isn’t it my precious?’ I say as I watch you tuck into it with gusto. “Eat up. You’ll need energy for tonight...”_

_I’m finishing my third wine spritzer, and I’m definitely feeling it. But I had to stop myself from feeling that weird... *feeling* when you were kissing my hand and staring at me. Oh god, now I’m staring at you and... it’s coming back? *NoNoNo*..._

_“Another spritzer,” I say loudly. There isn’t even a server at our table but one rushes right over to let me know it’s on its way._

_“Baby... you look so damn good...” I say, and put my hand on your arm. You look at my hand and stare at me intently, and there’s that *feeling* again!_

 

 

I'm knocking back my third whisky and lager, and it's getting to my head - they're not stingy with the whisky here. You're getting a bit flushed yourself - huh - you don't usually drink more than two glasses at the most. Ohh, this is interesting - I wouldn't mind seeing an inebriated James Moriarty. I wonder what kind of drunk you are - aggressive? Maudlin? Loving? Playful? Giggly? Only one way to find out... Keep those spritzers coming, waiters. If they're as generous with the wine as they are with the whisky, it shouldn't take too long to see you slightly woozy...

You're awfully touchy-feely as this character, and I'm really enjoying that, funnily enough, and I'm returning the touches, placing my hand on yours.

It's odd - normally touching when in character will get me all horny and dying to get you into our room alone, but tonight it seems sufficient to just sit here and talk, look into each other's eyes, touch each other's hands, have our food, with little witty exchanges, making each other laugh - I do want to get you into the room, but it's fine if that is later, for now I'm more than happy with what's happening...

We finish our main course and wait for our desserts - I wonder what I’m having - and a fifth spritzer and whisky are brought to our table.

 

 

_"Yayyy... spritzer!" I scoop up my drink, and take a hearty sip. "This is a laugh. And you didn't wanna come here... eejit," I say affectionately, and touch your face. "Se- erm... Ashton… is e'rything forgiven, my love? I've behaved abom… *a-bom-in-ab-ly*… please say you'll forgive me, my sweet..." I give you puppy dog eyes, and finish my drink._

 

 

You are _adorable_... I just want to - and why not? I scoop you up in my arms, pull you onto my lap. "You're forgiven, my little bunny..." I can't for the life of me remember what your name is supposed to be, so I'll stick to the terms of endearment. "I love you, my darling... I know I've been hard on you... I'm so sorry... you're so sweet, my sugarplum..."

 

 

_"*Bunny*!" I repeat, aghast - and then start giggling uncontrollably. "You are so *ridiculous*... I'm a *mastermind*, for chrissake… what bunny is a mastermind? Nobunny, that's who..."_

_I grab my glass from across the table, hold it upside down, and shake it - spraying you and the tablecloth with drops of wine. "Empty!" I say sadly, and look at you. My head turns and I gaze at the table in confusion and look back to you. "How did I get here?" I ask, and slide my arms around you._

 

 

You're not supposed to be a mastermind in public, my beloved bunny... and I think you've had enough for now. There's a well-stocked bar in our room if you want more - I actually quite fancy getting absolutely plastered with you, but not in public.

"You are just where you need to be, my darling... Let's go back to our hotel, there's more wine there."

The waiter brings the bill, I throw a credit card on it, sign a slip of paper, and we're free to go - I think I'll get even more weird looks if I carry you out of here, so I put my arm around you, pull your arm around my shoulders, and get you to your feet. "Come on, sugar-pie... let's go home."

 

 

_"Oh *let's*, Pooh-bear!” I say with a big smile, as I slide my arm around your waist. You hustle me into a taxi, and I fall into the back seat._

_"Oh *NO*! SebAshton! I ordered chocolate mousse and I didn't get to eat it!" Pouting, I curl up against you and lean my head on your shoulder. "Will you order me room service? I want something sweet and delicious and dreamy..." I look up at you, grinning. "Something like you, puddin'..."_

 

 

What-

Sweet?! Delicious?!? _Dreamy?!?_

Did I bundle the wrong rich guy into the taxi?

You're snuggling up to me and I'm completely out of my depth. James Moriarty isn't _cuddly_. He most certainly isn't _sweet_ or _complimentary_. What on earth is this? I often find that when people get drunk you get to see the real person - no longer hiding behind their masks, inhibitions, personas - but - _Jim?!_ You're - you don't - you _never_ let your guard down. You don't trust _anybody_. You're always cold and distant and in control - as well as controlling.

But - _this_ is hidden inside you deep down, somewhere? Cute, giggly - _sweet_ Jim?!

I really don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this. I'm flabbergasted - but strangely touched by this side of you.

 

 

_I'm leaning against you, humming a song that I can't remember the lyrics to, or the title of... when I realize you're not continuing our little game. I look up and see a strange look on your face. Everything was great in the restaurant but not in the taxi? Suddenly feeling exposed, I push off from your shoulder, and shake myself to get more clear-headed._

_"Jesus, Sebastian... you look like you've seen the wizard behind the curtain," I say with irritation. "Only this was no great reveal... It was a *game*, remember? But if you're tired of playing, then - game over."_

_I cross my arms and stare out the window. If I want you to believe that everything's gone back to normal, I should probably stop acting like a five-year-old in a snit. I exhale huffily. Any minute now..._

 

 

Wait - no! I liked that Moriarty! Come back!!!

"No - no, I'm sorry, I was just distracted - I am most certainly not tired of playing,"

I try, reach out, pull you back onto my shoulder. "I'll get you anything you like on room service... what do you fancy, cupcake?"

 

 

_"You had a *look*," I snap. "What was that look? Everyone's allowed to go on the piss regularly, but I get a bit tipsy one time and... what the fuck, Sebastian? You wanted to go camping, and we're going camping! I didn't want to go! Can't I do something *I* want without the world coming to an end, and you giving me grief about blowing off a bit of steam?"_

 

 

"Jim!" Oh no I don't like _this_ side of drunk Jim at all. Pugnacious might be more what I'd expect from you than cute and cuddly, but I really really liked that side of you...

"I'm sorry I had a look. It wasn't a look of disapproval - quite the opposite. I was just - amazed at seeing this side of you, I'd never seen it before. But I really, really loved it... Can it come out to play again?"

 

 

_I look at you unsteadily and unsure. I *was* having fun... I *never* have fun - well psycho fun, sure. But not light-hearted, drunken fun... and I don't think I've had my fill._

_"Oh look, we're at the hotel," I say. "Well since you asked so nicely, I'll play. Just this once, mind you. Now will you help me out of the taxi, sugar-lips? I seem to have had a bit too much to drink..."_

 

 

But of course, honey-bunny...” I say, relieved. I put my arm around you, help you up. You’re unsteady on your feet but a bit better than when we got out of the restaurant - the fresh air has done you good.

We get into the lift, make faces at the mirror, giggle, get to the suite, and plonk down in the comfy chairs.

“Anything from room service, my lamb-chop?” I ask.

 

 

_"Yes please, sweet-cheeks - something chocolatey. And oh, *chips*! Get looooads of chips, Tiger. I'll check out the mini-bar..." I hop out of my chair and crouch in front of the small fridge. I snatch up tiny bottles of whisky and a small bottle of champagne and throw them on the bed… "And a bottle of wine! And anything you want! I'm the sugar-daddy in this scenario, right? I'll be right back with ice..." I grab the fancy bucket from the top of the fridge, grin at you and wander towards the door._

 

 

Alright - chocolate and chips. I wouldn’t mind some chips either - one of the many downsides of posh restaurants is the small portions. Give me a decent chippy any day...

I order chocolate mousse, _lots_ of chips, ketchup, a bottle of sweet white, some lagers and a bottle of whisky. So much for a well-stocked fridge - those tiny bottles are hardly enough to make your glass wet.

I pour you a glass of champagne and myself a millimetre of whisky, and then you’re back, proudly carrying a bucket of ice. I’m not going to tell you that the wine will probably come with its own bucket, instead put the champagne bottle on the ice.

I lean over, kiss you on the lips. “Thank you, sugar-lump...”

 

 

_"Oh my *pleasure*… anything for my honey-bear." I kiss you, start to head for the chair, come back and kiss you and fall in your lap. "You are *comfy*… d'you mind?" I snap up my glass of champagne and have a sip. "Here's to one month of marriage, pet! I'm sorry it's been rough, but I swear I'll make it up to you... when's room service getting here? It feels like it's been forever already..."_

 

 

I suddenly have a lap full of Jim and it’s so different from how I usually have a lap full of Jim - normally you’d be playing a game with me, or teasing me. Now it’s you being relaxed, wanting to be cosy, close to me... it’s too cute for words, and I’ve certainly never thought of James Moriarty as _cute_.

“They’ll be here in a second, honeycomb...” I reassure you and kiss the top of your head, then raise my hint of whisky. “Cheers my cuddle-wuddle - to many more happy months!”

 

 

_”Cheers, Pookie," I sing and slam my drink against yours. We both stare at the glasses, still whole, and my mouth forms a small 'o' of surprise. "Well, *that* was close..." I say in mock relief. "So what shall we do to pass the time? Should we play a game? It would be a game within a game, Tiger," I whisper, holding my hand over my mouth._

 

 

"Oooh, I love your games, Nermal..." I grin.

Something tells me this may be a more pleasant game than your usual ones. Normally, when you play a game, either I hurt a lot or a lot of people end up dead. I don't think you're in a hurting _or_ killing mood at the moment, which is rather rare. I do wonder what you have in mind...

 

 

_I punch you in the shoulder. "*I* love my games, Tiger! I really do! We could play... Two Truths and a Lie? Or Truth or Dare or Drink? As newlyweds, it would really help us get to know each other better..."_

 

 

Oh this could become _very_ interesting... "Truth or Dare _and_ Drink," I say. "It's an even better version of the game, where you choose a truth or dare and if you do it, the other person has to drink. Surely us lovebirds wouldn't have anything to hide from each other, or dare to do anything dangerous?"

 

 

_I laugh with delight. “Oh no, sweetheart... it’s just for a laugh, what could possibly happen?” I hop off you, pull off my jacket, and throw it onto the bed. Then I kick off my shoes, which go skittering across the floor and land with consecutive thumps against the bed. I pretend to cringe. “Sorry, doll. I *really* shouldn’t drink any more... but oh, let’s play! You first...” I sit on the bed, grinning._

 


	2. Leaves, Twigs, and Elderberries

As I open my mouth, there's a knock on the door. "Room service!"

I sigh, roll my eyes, sneak to the door, peek under it - one pair of shoes and a trolley, and the smell of chips. Either the best-prepared assassins in the world, or genuine room service. I'll take my chances on the latter.

I open the door and let the guy in. He is about to launch into a spiel about the wine, but I tell him it's absolutely _fine_ and thank you very much, press a tenner in his hand and escort him out.

I hand you a plate of chips, pour obscene amounts of ketchup on mine, and start eating.

"Right, where were we... I get to start, right? OK, I choose... truth."

 

 

_I delicately take a chip, bite down on it and watch you shove several into your mouth at a time. Why do I find this insanely hot? I watch your mouth with fascination, then give myself a little shake._

_“Truth, hmm. We’ll start with an easy one, honeybuns... How often do you wank?” I ask blithely and watch with amusement as you pause chewing your mouthful of chips and stare at me before you swallow hard._

 

 

Oh Jesus. How often do I wank? If I tell the truth, will you be miffed? No, why would you? Well, because you have a tendency to get angry at nothing? But if I lie, you'll be able to tell - you're scary like that. Shit. I should have dared.

Oh well.

"Eh - quite regularly. Every morning, if you're not there. If you are there - well, if we have sex and I don't come, I usually rub one off in the bathroom."

 

 

_I consider this, sipping my drink. If this *were* a honeymoon, you’d probably be considering a divorce already._

_I pout and walk towards you. You seem alarmed, and I slow down. *Aw* - poor Tiger._

_“You’ve given me food for thought, my dove - I don’t *like* the idea of you wanking so much - but then I shouldn’t be so selfish, should I... hmm. Quite a conundrum... to be discussed later.” I lean in and kiss you. “You will not need to rub one off tomorrow morning...” I say, giving you a smouldering look. “Do I take a drink now?”_

 

 

You look unhappy as you approach me - shit, I've blown it - are you angry? Has our sweet night ended before it's good and well begun?

But no, you're - contrite? _Jim?!_ Am I _really_ sure I brought the right guy home? And then you kiss me, and promise me I won't have to wank tomorrow, and give me a look that sends half my blood supply to my cock - hgnhg?

"Yes - yes you drink. I told you the truth," I manage to choke out. I gulp down some lager to ease the sudden dryness in my throat.

 

 

_Staring at you, I drop onto your lap again and reach for my glass. I down my champagne, then wave the glass at you. “I need more...” I sing softly._

_I kiss your ear, and whisper, “Dare.”_

 

 

I pour the remaining champagne in your glass, pour myself some whisky. I have trouble thinking of anything except your weight against my erection. I don't think that 'suck me off' as a dare is quite in the spirit of the game, though... not quite yet, at least...

"Take off your shirt, tie, and vest..." I murmur. "I want to see that beautiful body..."

 

 

_“Another easy one...” I shrug and slowly take off my cuff links while looking at you. Your eyes immediately glaze over. From removing cuff links? My, my... I throw them onto the table where they clatter against my glass._

_I slowly unbutton my waistcoat, slide it off my shoulders... and let it drop to the floor. I know I’m drunk, to leave clothing lying about on the floor like this... but right now I really don’t care. All I can focus on is your rapt expression, and your hands on my hips._

_Next, I pull my hand along my tie, as if I’m stroking myself. Then I lightly smack you across the cheek with it and smile - you give me a lopsided grin as I pull at the fabric to undo the knot. I’m not the only one feeling the effect of the drinking... The tie joins the vest on the floor._

_Finally, I unbutton the shirt... I raise one arm and pull the sleeve off, then repeat on the other side. The shirt is thrown over my shoulder._

_I look down at my bare chest, and back at your enraptured gaze. “Drink, you sweet thing...” I say in a silky voice._

 

 

I gulp back my whisky, unable to keep my eyes off your bare chest, your dark eyes, gleaming with mischief - shudder... I tell myself it's from the whisky, not from the sound of your voice softly calling me _sweet thing_...

I stroke your shoulder, your arm... I can't believe I'm allowed to do this, having you on my lap, cuddling, stroking, kissing... wait, kissing? Yes - I'm kissing your shoulder, your neck... you smell so good... god, I don't usually get so loving when drunk... but all I can think of is how sweet your smile is, how soft your skin, how enchanting your voice...

Don't be ridiculous Sebastian Moran. You're a grown man. An assassin. Not some impressionable teenager. You're just drunk. And Jim is fucking hot. It's hormones.

I take another draught of my lager.

"Right, my turn... truth again."

 

 

_“*Really*... are we avoiding a dare for any particular reason?”_

_Maybe because you’re a dick, Moriarty?_

_I ignore this thought._

_“I promise, I won’t be cruel. Cross my heart, hope to die..” I make a sweeping ‘x’ over my heart. “But, truth it is...” I pause and look at you assessingly. “Is there anything that we haven’t done that you’d *like* to do? Not saying it’ll happen, but... spill it.”_

 

 

Oh... good question.

Of _course_ you ask good questions, you're a bloody genius.

What would I like to do with you...

_watch the sun set from a beach, cuddling close... walk through a park hand in hand... eat a bowl of ice cream with you, using one spoon... slow dance together... wake up to you smiling at me, kissing me, saying 'good morning, my love...'_

For _fuck's sake_ , will you stop getting all sentimental Sebastian Moran?! Can't you take your drink any more?

You're looking at me and I don't know what to say - certainly none of that -

"I'd like to..." _make love_ "have sex under the stars. Just you, me, and the universe. Maybe tomorrow night..."

 

 

_I blink at you. “Have sex- under the stars? Really, that’s it? I think the odds are in your favour...” I take my glass and down it. “No more champagne...” I say sadly, but brandish my glass at you. “Fill. And... dare.”_

 

 

I take the wine bottle, pour you a glass. Of course this can't be in your champagne glass, really, Sebastian, were you raised in a barn? You _never_ contaminate wine with other wine. It breaks the unique bouquet - you might as well serve it in a bucket.

Yes, thanks mum.

Dare.

What do I dare you to do?

"For a bit - just for a minute - I want you to stop playing the character. And - I want you to not put up all the shields and mirrors you hide behind in daily life. For just one minute - just one - I want to see the real Jim. And I want him to kiss me."

 

 

_The feeling of slamming brakes, squealing tires, chaotic tracks on the pavement..._

_I blink at you again. Come on, genius... think. What do I do? Say something cutting._

_(Don’t *want* to)_

_Something clever, then._

_(nothing’s coming...)_

_What is *wrong* with you?? *Do* something..._

_(No one has seen me in close to twenty years..._

_I’m so alone...)_

_My eyes widen. I look at you in confusion._

_“I don’t know - how...”_

_Then I realize as we’re looking into each other’s eyes - I just did._

_I lean forward, and for the very first time, I press my lips to yours and kiss you as myself._

 

 

Oh god - what did I say _that_ for?!? What _stupid_ way to ruin the game... Jim is – _Jim_ ; he is who he is, _everyone_ shows a mask to the outside world, what kind of privilege do you think you can ask for, soldier?! This is _James Moriarty_ , he's no mere mortal, he's not going to show you his vulnerable side - if he even _has_ one -

 

Oh god no.

No Jim. Don't.

I don't think I can -

if I gaze upon your true face, I might go mad - it's not for me to -

 

Your eyes. So - open. Lost. Looking at me for succour. Oh god _Jim_ -

Your voice bypasses my ears and cuts straight through my heart. _I don't know - how..._ Such - loneliness, uncertainty... oh my god - I could never have -

 

And then you kiss me, and I lose - everything.

 

My independence.

My identity.

My detachment.

My liberty.

My Self.

 

I can feel myself literally crumbling.

When we first got together, when you made me yours - you got my body and my mind.

But this - now - showing me the unbearable beauty of your real self - pressing your lips upon mine without a mask in between -

 

You got my heart.

 

 

_I feel like a teenager... kissing the dreamiest boy I've ever seen. Big, tall, strong... golden hair, blue eyes... and totally smitten with me..._

_My lips move against yours, my arms circle your neck..._

_*Ohhh*... I could totally fall in-_

_I pull back abruptly. My stomach lurches and I cover my mouth. I run to the bathroom, and manage to make it to the toilet in time. Once I've finished vomiting up my expensive dinner, I start weeping (as I always do when I throw up) and I hear a knock on the door._

_"Jim - can I come in?" You sound worried._

_"I'm fine, I'll just be a minute - I need to brush my teeth..." I drag myself to the sink, rinse my mouth and spit - then brush my teeth, and rinse and spit repeatedly._

_I look in the mirror, and wipe my tears. My head feels a lot more clear, like I was feeling muddled and it was vomited out. Now I feel strangely sunny inside - I splash cold water on my face, and wait a moment to let any puffiness around my eyes fade away._

_When I come out, you're pacing outside the door. "I'm fine, Tiger... I feel much better. So... more drinks! Do you want to play Two Truths and a Lie instead?"_

_I grab the bottle of wine and the glass and plunk myself on the carpet. "Sit!" I pat the space in front of me, grinning._

 

 

I'm completely and entirely lost in the sensation of my heart shattering into a myriad fragments glittering like diamonds, scattering all over the universe in slow motion, when suddenly the spell is broken and you run out of my arms and into the bathroom.

Well. I don't usually have that effect on people.

It takes me a moment or two to gather my wits up from where they have been strewn across the floor - _what the fuck was that?! what the FUCK was that?! did I actually ASK - did you actually SHOW -_

I rise, follow you on unsteady legs - you're throwing up and crying - oh god Jim-

You say you're alright and need to brush your teeth - ok. That gives me a chance to - clear my head a little, because it feels like it's spinning and my heart is racing out of control.

I walk to the window, open it, and breathe in the crisp night air. That's better - I'll have a fag while I'm here.

It calms my heart rate down a bit, slows the thoughts.

 

What the fuck Moran. What are you playing at. You do _not_ fall in love with James Moriarty. That's an order soldier.

I'm afraid it's a bit late for that.

What the _fuck_?! You can't - it's _Jim!!!_ He is incapable of love!

Jim may be. I'm not.

Oh you're going to just _pine_ for him!? Oh how incredibly tragic romantic hero of you!

There may be something there. I saw it. I saw the real Jim, under all the layers of James Moriarty. I may be able to lure him out.

You... you're actually serious, aren't you?

I'm his property already. It's not like I'm ever going to have the chance to fall in love with someone else. Nor would I want to.

You... absolute dickhead.

I shrug.

 

I've finished my fag and you're still in that bathroom - come on Jim, come out - shit, are you mad at me? I didn't mean it - I won't do it again - just - come out and let me see you? Please?

 

And - there you emerge - looking for all the world like nothing happened. Grabbing wine. Grinning at me. Continuing the game.

 

I think I balanced on a knife's edge there for a moment... and then I fell.

For you.

Badly.

 

But the unbearable tension is past and you look like you want to continue being silly and merry and that's very much ok with me.

I grab the whisky and my lager, plonk down onto the ground with you. "Right - two truths and a lie it is."

 

 

_I'm in *such* a good mood. This was such a great idea..._

_"Righty-roo... I'll go first. I'll say three things about myself, and you guess which one is true. If you guess right, I drink. If you don't, you drink. Are we clear, soldier?"_

_You salute me playfully. There's a strange expression on your face, though. Wistful? Troubled?_

_"Darling, tonight is not a time to fret about anything... tonight is for *fun*. There, I have decreed it!" I make a gesture of holding a sceptre and I make a menacing face - although by the affectionate look you give me, I'm guessing I have all the menace of a sleepy hedgehog._

_"Now... here we go." I look at you closely. "I was forced to take Irish dancing lessons as a child, but I refused to continue because of the costumes they wanted us to wear for a recital. I can speak Gaelic, but I don't - ever. I was an altar boy until the communion wine was replaced by flat ginger ale with red food colouring. So, Tiger... which one is the lie?"_

 

 

I laugh out loud at the communion wine. That is _so_ you -

But more than that, I'm touched by this unprecedented insight into your childhood. You _never_ talk about that - well - we never talk about personal stuff, full stop. This, you opening up, even in the context of a game - it's precious.

I think - it would be like you to make the one which sounds most like you a lie. Or - you may have predicted my thinking, and lied about one of the other ones. Hmmm...

I'll go for bluff rather than double bluff.

"The altar boy is the lie."

 

 

_I look at you with a mischievous smirk. “It is *not* a lie... and now you must pay the price.”_

_I giggle behind my hand. “Irish dancing was a lie. Even when I was young, they couldn’t get me to agree to *that*.”_

 

 

I knock back my glass of whisky. Good to know about the Gaelic - and oh god now I'm seeing you as a mischievous little altar boy and I fear there may be actual hearts floating out of my eyes or something.

"Right, my turn..." I guess I should do childhood stuff too then? " OK... I took ballroom dance classes up to performance level and actually really enjoyed it - I only stopped because my dad said it was gay and stopped paying for it. I peed my pants at the Queen's garden party - I was three. I actually never shoplifted until I was an adult."

 

 

_The first one is irritating, but the last two have me laughing into my glass._

_I stare at you. “The first one I think sadly true - which would make your father a bigger wanker than I imagined. You have the grace of a predatory cat, so dance makes sense. Peeing at the Queen’s garden party, well - I would have liked it to have been into a punch bowl from a balcony, but regardless... Quite possible. And shoplifting... I can imagine you being a bit of a hellion when you were adolescent. No one has this much aggression and rage without a dark side from *way* back. Not shoplifting is the lie.” I look at you expectantly._

 

 

"It's not fair playing this game with a genius," I complain, knocking back my whisky.

 

 

_"There, there... don't count yourself out, Tigger..." I pat you gently on the shoulder._

_"OK, I'm up. The Exorcist gave me nightmares for weeks. I used to follow around a neighbourhood cat when I was very young, and once I went too far and got lost. My favourite book as a child was Where the Wild Things Are and I used to insist it was read to me every night. What say you, darling?"_

 

 

"Mmmm... you're not the type to get lost. You have a mind map - I think you must have had one as a kid as well. I'll go for the cat."

 

 

_"*Very young* I said - this was pre-mind map. Although interestingly, it was the reason I started using one. I didn't enjoy being lost. Where the Wild Things Are is the lie - I loved it, but it wasn't my favourite. Now, you must drink..." I snatch up the bottle. You hold out your glass, and I slosh whisky in until it's almost full._

_"Whoa!" you say, pulling the glass away. "This is strong shit..."_

_"Well you have to drink it, now! Them's the rules..." I say in a haughty tone and point at your glass._

 

 

"Fucking hell Jim, you're going to kill me - " I protest. "You're way too good at this game - and _you're_ only drinking wine which isn't half as strong as this stuff. Can't we play - I don't know - arm wrestling or something? Strip poker?"

Your face is unrelenting, and you point at my glass. I drink the lot. Bloody hell. That's knocked me sideways.

"Right - fuck, Jim. This is - fuck. Man. I'll do one more of these, but if you get it, neither of us drinks. And then we play something else. OK?"

You look pouty, but nod magnanimously. "Alright then, Tiger. Go ahead."

I try to think. It's hard.

"My grandma had a succession of snooty Siamese cats and I was terrified of them after one of them scratched my arm open when I was very little. I used to drink my dad's whisky and top it up with water, until he found out and threatened to kill me if I did it again - then I drank a quarter of the bottle and pissed in it to make up the level. The first time I saw a stallion get an erection I started crying because I thought he was hurt."

 

 

_I tap my fingers against my lips. "Hm. This one's more challenging... The Siamese cats - *possible*. I can't see you being scared of an animal, though - even if you were small. The whisky - a bit outlandish, but plausible. Stallion with erection - so weird and specific, it feels like it could be true. Although the last two *could* be bluffs... I'm going to say... Snooty cat scratch is a lie."_

 

 

"Bloody hell Jim! You _are_ too good at this. Not playing with you ever again ever," I complain.

"My grandma had Siamese cats, and one of them _did_ scratch me, but that was because I was so mad about them - I always wanted to pick them up and cuddle them. The scratch didn't put me off at all..."

"Right, I want to play a game where I have a chance too, or I'll be dead before the morning comes and then who's going to shoot people for you?"

 

 

_"Oh, what does it matter," I say blithely. "It's quite likely that camping will be the death of me - either I'll fall into a stream, be eaten by a wildcat or you'll strangle me in the first ten minutes. All right, if you don't like my games... what do *you* want to play?" I hold out my glass for you to pour more wine into._

 

 

“I liked truth or dare. I had more of an equal chance there. Your go." I say, as I top up your glass with wine.

 

 

_I seem to be blocking something that happened with Dare last time... but Truth scares me. I need another drink for this... I drain my glass and blink at you._

_"Truth?" I say and hiccup._

 

 

Right. Now I have to think of a question, don't I? It's hard to think of questions.

I know! Why are you so incredibly beautiful? That's a question isn't it? But maybe not a good one. Think, Sebastian. Think.

"Who was your... eh... thingy... what I am. Boyfriend? Sounds childish. Sort of. Regular shag. Anyway. Who was the last one before me?"

 

 

_I throw my head back. "This is why you choose Dare, Jim!!" I yell, then sigh and look back at you. "I don't do boyfriends or dating, Tiger! *We* are shagging - but that's not something I did with others, either. You look surprised, darling! I had experiences, within very specific parameters, and following very specific rules... that included very controlled sex acts. Mainly it was pain and domination, but someone could blow me. Or *maybe* I would fuck them... but that was rare, and it was very impersonal - a technical act to achieve an outcome. *Not* orgasm - enforcing *submission*. Sex is *not* why I was there." I sip my drink, thinking. "The last person?? Inconsequential. Do you want a *name*? It's *irrelevant* to me. I could make up a name and it would be just as meaningless - let's say Ewan LeatherPants. It was always some willing body I found online who wanted punishment. Or thought they did. *Hah*." I drink more. "*Shagging* is something I've only done with one person, Tiger... who could it be?" I cross my eyes at you, and drain my glass. "I seem to have finished my wine..."_

 

 

You - haven't shagged? Others? You didn't –

you did stuff with others but it was not about sex?

But - you are _so_ sensual. We - those first weeks - we hardly left the bed. Or - well, we did - we had sex in all possible and quite a few impossible forms in the shower, the living room, the kitchen, your office, the car - god you were all _over_ me. You showed me heaven, hell, and anything in between. And you were - are - so _fucking_ good at it...

 

What were we talking about?

 

Oh yes - You - only class _me_ as your shag? Oh god Jim -

You yelp and your glass falls onto the carpet as I pounce you, pin you to the floor, and cover you in kisses, and you start giggling and making 'get off me'-noises, but they don't sound like you mean them.

I lean back up, help you sit, get you your glass back, and pour you some wine.

"Wait a minute - I'm supposed to drink when you tell the truth..."

I slosh some whisky into my glass and knock it back. "There. Now it's me. I choose Truth."

 

 

_Your snog-attack has left me breathless and giddy. There are so many questions I could ask, so many I've been *dying* to ask, but you get so snippy about your past. And I can't even make you, because I know all too well what it's like to have a force field around a significant time in your life. That's the one boundary I can respect._

_But *you* chose Truth... and I just need to ask a question that will hopefully not be part of that minefield where you refuse to tread._

_"Why pray tell did you join the SAS, former Colonel Moran?"_

 

 

“Because I’m a stubborn fucker who always needs to be the best at everything,” I sigh. “I joined the army, mostly because I was sick to death of Oxford and my family, and then there was this elite group - of course I had to try for it. And the selection was gruelling - so I loved it. I loved going to the limits of my endurance and then finding that somewhere somehow I had stamina to give that last push.

And then I was trained to be a perfect murder machine - I enjoyed that, as well. All perfect preparation for being the assassin, bodyguard, and whipping boy for a criminal emperor,” I grin.

 

 

_"We should put that on a card for you..." I finish my drink, and start giggling. "'Assassin, bodyguard, whipping boy for criminal emperor' in small font... 'Perfect Murder Machine' in large. Maybe in bold. Get them printed, will you?" I hold out my glass. Things are definitely feeling fuzzy, but I could not care less. "My turn, Murder Machine... Dare!"_

 

 

I fill up your glass halfway, because unlike my boss I am not a sadistic lunatic, and you knock it back.

"Hmmm... what should I dare you to do... oh wait I know! I want you to dance for me. But - dance to _my_ music," I grin.

After a few tries, I manage to connect my phone to the music system and get it to work. Rage Against the Machine's 'Killing in the Name' starts up, and I sit back onto the bed, looking forward to the show.

 

 

_I look at you and shake my head._

_"Really, Tiger?" I listen to the music. "I don't think I'm drunk enough for this..."_

_I drain my glass. "Oh, that helps..."_

_I keep listening... "All right, ye eejit - but I'm not thrashing around like some kind of barbarian..."_

_And I proceed to dance my way through the very loud Tiger song. I feel like I'm channelling a flamenco dancer doing a lovely paso doble, and it doesn't matter if it's authentic or not, because you certainly seem transfixed by it._

_Especially when I step onto the couch, abandon the paso doble, and sway sensually to the aggressive music. And then climb onto the back of the couch, where I display my rock star moves. Because I can do rock star - easy._

_When the final section with all the cursing begins, I reach out my hand for the wine bottle and you give it to me, seeming unsure but utterly bewitched. I tip it back into my mouth. And then I let the music get inside me and the rock star writhes on the back of the couch and you watch with huge eyes and I keep drinking until the bottle is empty and I throw it and *somehow* you catch it, and then I step off the 'stage' and you're there to catch me, too - and you're gently lowering me to the floor where I collapse in a heap of giggles._

_"Well, that was fun... *Drink*, Sebbie."_

 

 

I had no idea one could dance to Rage Against the Machine like that. But you pull it off - do you pull it off...

I'm watching, mesmerized, as you dance - you got great moves babe - then sway on the sofa - fuck, that's _sexy_ \- and then go full Freddie Mercury on the back - bloody hell. I'm sitting with my mouth open. I should have recorded this.

And then the song ends and you're giggling and telling me to drink - oh yes. Drink. I knock back my whisky.

"Baby -" _did you just call James Moriarty baby!?!_ "- you're out of wine, and we're both really, really drunk. If we're to be of any use tomorrow, we probably should go to sleep..."

 

 

_“*Sleep*? Oh, ah don’ tink so... darlin’. *You* are goin' t’ show me a good time...” I push you down onto your back, and crawl over you. Looking down at you, I smile faintly. “Aren’t you... baby.”_

_I slowly lick along your neck, and then up the side of your face. “Mmm... Tiger... yes, *please*... ”_

 

 

Oh. Oh well if that’s what we’re doing... I won’t say no. To be honest, that dance just now was bloody hot.

I have _no_ idea what it’s like to have sex with a drunk Moriarty, but there’s only one way to find out...

“Hmmm... I’d be more than happy to...” I grin, wrap my arms around you, put my hand on the back of your neck to see if you’re in the mood for kissing. It brings back the memory of earlier, and my heart tugs as I recall your face just before you kissed me... I push your head down, your lips onto mine, god Jim, I need this, please...

 

 

_My lips to yours... it *reminds* me of something, something Big, but I feel compelled to push it aside. No, no, no, no... we’re not going there - wherever there is._

_I kiss you, and it shifts into a session of making out. On some level I realize that normally I would be angry and freaking out for some reason, but I’ve had such a fun evening, and that would ruin it, and I *need* this, I’m allowed just this once... and Tiger is *fun*... and he’s so good in bed... it’s amazing to me that you were shocked by my revelation that I’d never shagged anyone regularly._

_*Wait*..._

_why on earth did I share that?_

_Truth or Dare, right, right..._

_Anyway, we don’t kiss like this - when we kiss it’s hard and intense and dominating... we don’t make out. But tonight seems to be some kind of ‘get out of jail free’ experience for me, doing all the things I don’t allow myself to do._

_So I continue to make out with you until I fall to one side of you, giggling._

_“You’re silly. Why are you silly? Take off your clothes, Sebastian... and then take off mine... ”_

 

 

Kissing - sweet kissing - I don't think we've ever - I open my eyes to check it's really happening, it's really you, I'm really kissing you like this - so gentle, so precious... My Jim...

What? Oh come on Sebastian, don't go there. He's not _your_ Jim, he will never be. Don't go deluding yourself. You're _his_ , no doubt about that, but he can't ever be yours. It's a relationship like - a dog and his owner. There is - exclusivity, yes, and a shared life, and maybe - _maybe_ \- on a night like tonight, or sometimes in the dark of night after a nightmare - some affection. But - you're his. He's not yours. That is the way of the world, and you decided you were fine with that when he made you his. You could have walked away, Sebastian - and you didn't. But don't go hoping and moping - that's a lost cause.

And stop fucking ruminating - you're not concentrating on this amazing kiss...

I stroke the back of your head, your shoulder, your back. In an unbelievable gesture I stroke your cheek, your temple...

And then suddenly you're falling off me, calling me silly, and telling me to take my clothes off.

"I'm silly? Why am I silly? _You're_ silly! You're all giggly..." I dive at your belly and blow on it, making silly sounds and having you convulse in giggles.

Snickering, I take off my top and my trousers and pants, then drag off yours.

 

 

_You are being the *silliest* Tiger ever, and you have me laughing so hard it's hard to breathe - but then clothing is being removed and I'm still feeling giddy but I'm trying to contain it more._

_"Tha's better," I say and pounce on you. "Oof," I say as I land against your warm body._

_"You feel so good," I say in amazement, moving against you and wrapping my arms around your neck. "Do you always feel this good? Why didn't you tell me, Tigger?"_

 

 

"Tigger?!" I can't stop giggling at that. "Tigger... you silly..." what can I say that reflects you? "... Magpie..."

" _Magpie!?_ " you giggle. "Yes," I argue - "The Thieving Magpie - La Gazza Ladra. You love that piece - it appeals to your sense of the dramatic. And you love stealing people's silver and creating chaos. And you love shiny things!"

I'm stroking my hands over your body - your skin feels so soft and smooth, with the taut muscles underneath - your body is just perfect...

 

 

_"Oh, I don't know... *maybe*..." I breathe in as I feel your hands on my body and your lips on my neck._

_"But *you* are definitely a Tigger..."_

_I rock my hips against you, feel my cock rub against yours, and I suck in my breath. "Oh... look what's happening... terrible things, Sebbie... we're getting *aroused*…" I whisper in horror._

 

 

"It would be more terrible if we weren't... something would definitely be amiss. How could I not get aroused when the sexiest man in the UK is lying naked on top of me?" I keep stroking your back, let my hands sink to your beautiful arse, lean up, trying to get you to kiss me again.

 

 

_You keep returning to my lips, and something in the back of my mind is telling me not to... but my mind feels blissfully numbed out by the copious amount of drink I poured down my throat this evening. Why shouldn't I kiss you exactly? Something about something... don't let him think something...?_

_Stupid. Whatever._

_So I kiss. And you moan. And I like *that* very much._

_And I like your hands on my arse, and your naked body under mine, and holy fuck, your muscles... I'm running my hands along them._

_Jaisus. I break off from the kiss to stare at them._

_"You are *hot*, Tigger..." I tell you, and move my hand down your chest and abdomen. "So very... very... hot." I murmur, and my hand closes over your cock._

 

 

Oh god Jim... You're kissing so _sweetly_ , possessively, yes, but not aggressively like normal - with full attention, like my mouth is something fascinating that you need to explore fully. I moan, which seems to encourage you further. You're stroking me like you've never seen me before, seem enchanted with my body, which is absolutely intoxicating.

Your hands roam over my body, to find my cock, making me gasp. "Fuck, Jim... You too, you're so fucking hot... The most beautiful man I've ever seen..." My hand moves to your cock, remarkably erect considering how diluted your blood is at the moment, stroke it gently.

 

 

_My head falls back when I feel your hand on my cock._

_“Oh god... Sebastian...”_

_I rock my hips against yours._

_“I want you inside me...”_

_I lean over you, still stroking your cock._

_“Now.”_

_I pause to think, then grin at you and continue stroking. “I’m such a bossy-boots! But do it now.”_

 

 

Oh god I get to fuck you? That's a rare treat indeed - and I moan just at the thought. Lube. I packed lube. In my washbag. Fuck, where is my washbag? Bathroom - damn -

I roll you off me, kiss you, mutter "Stay right here," and dash to the bathroom. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the unforgiving bathroom light - flushed, definitely a bit worse for wear, but with eyes gleaming. I look rather mullered but quite happy...

I dash back into the bedroom, pounce on top of you, kiss your neck, roll you back on top of me, put some lube on my finger, gently place it at your entrance, push, biting your collar bone.

 

 

_When you say "Stay right here", you look genuinely concerned I *won't* - afraid, even. Why, silly Tiger?_

_An image crashes through my mind - me in a suit, scowling and working on my laptop. *Ugh*... no wonder I needed a holiday from *that*._

_When you reappear looking anxious, I give you what I imagine is an extremely drunken smile... and within seconds we're back to where we were, and now you're fingering my arse and *ohhhh*... *Tiger*..._

_After a few moments of working me in, I've had enough - I pull away from your fingers, and position myself over you. Mmm. Soldier cock. *Tiger* cock. *Mine*... I'm fumbling a bit at first, but - *ohhh*... *Right there*... and then the head of your cock is in me, and then the thick shaft, and I'm stretching and stretching, muscles twitching and squeezing - and I keep pushing down until you're all the way in - then I stop and look down at you, my hands trembling on your chest._

_I close my eyes and let out a long sigh. I feel my muscles squeeze against your cock. "I'm an eejit... I tink I *have* to be, and m’sorry... but I'm - lucky to have you, Sebastian..." I open my eyes and blink at you in confusion. What? I have no *idea* where that came from..._

_I lean down to kiss you and begin to move._

 

 

Oh god oh god oh god... you're riding me and it feels so incredibly fucking amazingly good... Oh god Jim...

And then you look down at me, and say you're an idiot - what? and - that you're lucky to have me? You've never - you've never said anything like that... Jim... oh god, your face earlier - my heart shattering - your giggles, your easy manner, your kisses... god, Jim...

And for the first time, and I'll never acknowledge it out loud, even in my mind to myself, but... I hope... I think... that _maybe_ I've made the first hairline crack into those impregnable walls.

 

 

_I'm concentrating on keeping a good pace and rhythm but I'm so very drunk, and still giggling on occasion._

_I lose track of what I'm saying to you, but there's lots of sighs and ‘mmm, Tiger’s and the like... Nothing to be too concerned about, I think? Why am I concerned? Should I be more concerned? *Shut up, brain*... this is a party for me and Tiger, and you're *not* invited..._

_I lean down and kiss you again - that helps eject my brain from the building. And then my body takes over and the pace speeds up, and the rhythm gets more intense, and there's a good deal more sighing and 'mmm, Tiger'-ing, and loads of panting and loud moaning besides. So good... *so good*!!_

 

 

My hand is on your cock, following your rhythm, stroking it; my other hand roaming over your chest, your shoulder, your arm... so beautiful, so smooth, so soft... I just want to touch you everywhere, you are a vision come to life, a dream, a dream I've had a few times, where you are sweet, and nice, and approachable, and sex is more than just a power game or a means to get off... You've let me fuck you before, or ordered me to fuck you, more like, but this is the first time since we've started shagging that I feel that we are fucking as equal partners. And... I love it. Much as I adore your devious games, adore being ordered around by you, this is... something more profoundly human than we've ever shared. And I'm starting to think that we might all just be human. Even you.

 

 

_There’s something different about you... and I like it. It feels like I’m being issued orders from the deep to put a *stop* to it... but I’m ignoring all orders for now, in favour of riding the cock of the hottest man I’ve ever seen... and the sweetest... and he’s *mine* and I need this and no one can take it away from me as long as I’m pissed._

_You’re stroking me, and it’s getting me so hot - I’m a little sad about this ending and probably passing out soon after - and I’m trying to make it last longer, but I *can’t*..._

_My hands are on your chest, my head is back, my eyes are closed..._

_“Tiger...” I moan. “I’m so close-“_

 

 

Oh god your face screwed up in ecstasy, your words - your hard cock in my hands -

"Me - too - god, Jim - god you feel _fantastic_ \- oh god-"

I feel my balls contracting, sensation from every nerve in my entire body congregating there before making its way out through my cock and pouring into you, pouring all my feeling, all my desire, _everything_ into you, you, Jim, Jim... "God - _Jim_..."

 

 

_You came before me? I’m shocked, but your hand is still going strong. It doesn’t take you long to bring me to a shuddering, gasping orgasm and then I find myself lying on you in a sweaty heap._

_“Wasn’t there something about me coming first? There must have been...” I murmur. “That was... mmmph. Tigers are so hot...”_

 

 

"You always come first, Boss, but you don't want that when I'm fucking you, because then my cock feels uncomfortable, you say..."

You're lying on top of me cuddling me which is _adorable_ and I want to hold you there forever, but there is sperm and sweat and I know how you hate waking up sticky. I move, ignoring your protests, and grab you in my arms, carry you to the shower, where I carefully lower you. We hold on to each other as we wait for it to heat up and then stand together under the warm water, our arms around each other.

 

 

_"This was fun..." I say drunkenly as the water pours down around me. "Wish we didn't have to go to stupid camping tomorrow..."_

_"It'll be fun too, baby..." you murmur as you bathe me._

_"No, it wo-on't... It'll be hor-rid," I sing, leaning against you. "And we're gonna want to mur-der each other..!"_

_"Never," you chuckle as you tousle my hair._

_"Just wait," I mumble. "It's *sooo* stupid..."_

_You don't seem concerned in the slightest as you lead me out of the shower, towel me off and bundle me into bed._

_My head falls against the pillow. "Ohh... I di'nt eat my chocolate mousse!" I exclaim, my eyes closing._

 

 

I pour some sugar and salt in a water bottle, knock it back. I prepare one for you, but you’re already asleep - “Jim? Jim, wake up - you want to drink this, it’ll make you feel better in the morning...”

“Go way Tiger...”

“Jim, no, come on, just a glass...”

“No, ‘m fine...”

I try to get you awake but you’re too far gone. Oh well - it’ll be alright in the morning, surely... I’m tired...

I look at you, sleeping, looking somehow younger than ever before, your face relaxed, the lines around your eyes less pronounced. You’re snoring ever so lightly... and as I lie there gazing at you, my heart opens up and aching longing warmth leaks through my chest.

Oh my god... you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’re the ruler of my world - of course you are - you’ve been for a while - you point and my body responds however you wish, you move and my mind whirrs spotting danger and preventing it - but this is different.

I’m no longer just a killing machine and fuck toy without feeling.

Oh fucking hell Moran, what did we say about feelings? You’re just going to suffer.

That’s alright. And... it’s Jim. It’s worth it. It’s all worth it...

With a last loving look, I lean over to kiss you and turn off the light.

 

 

_When I wake up I realize I'm dying._

_Someone has poisoned me... and soon I will be dead._

_I open my eyes and cry out at how *bright* the sun is, peeking from the sides of the curtains._

_"Sebastian..." I moan, clutching my stomach. "Oh *god*... It's the end."_

 

 

 _Fuck_... what the hell happened last night? My head is an aching ball of lead, my tongue and mouth are drier than leather, my stomach feels like an acid vat. God, I haven’t drunk so much since before Jim...

 _Jim_.

Newlyweds. Drinking game. Dare. Drop the mask and...

 

kiss.

 

Heart exploding. Protective walls shattering beyond repair. Feelings. Love.

Oh god. Oh god please just beer goggles. Oh god not now not here, gone in the cold light of day, right god? Please?

 

_Imagine Jim..._

Beauty, genius, fascination, admiration, dedication... love.

 

 _Oh, fuckkkkk_...

Of _all the people_ you could have fallen for. At Oxford. In the army. In London, working freelance. No one so much as got a second thought. And now - _Jim?!_

Bad enough you fall in love, because we weren’t going to do that any more, were we? But then - _Jim Moriarty_? The devil’s representative on earth? Your fucking _boss?!_ The man who has made you _his_ , his sniper, assassin, sex toy? The man, most importantly, have we pointed this out already, _completely and utterly_ incapable of feeling? Let alone loving?

Oh very good. Very good Moran. You fucking sucker for suffering.

_It’s not like I had a choice, did I?!_

Damn. Oh well. It may pass. ( _Yeah, right_ )

Otherwise - I’ll just have to cope.

 

(And maybe, just maybe, he’ll break this rule as well. He broke the no shagging rule. People get attached to their pets, don’t they?

\- _Cut it, Moran..._ )

 

The object of all these thoughts stirs beside me, announces that the world is ending, which is not unlike him when he’s a bit under the weather. I open my eyes, with effort, to see... well... you’d have to be a mother to call this a vision of beauty. Not even a lovesick soldier can deny that you look quite terrible.

“Morning, Boss...” I croak.

 

 

_”I'm-"_

_My eyes widen, and I find myself lurching into the bathroom and heaving my guts out into the toilet._

_"Oh- god-"_

_The vile purging repeats. When it stops I'm draped over the toilet, whimpering. My head drops onto my arm, and I find my face to be wet with tears._

_A hand gently touches my back. I reach out shakily and flush the toilet._

_"Moran," I mutter. "I want you to kill me..."_

 

 

“First law of robotics overrules the second law, Boss...”

It’s not the first time you’ve said this - you get adorably melodramatic when you’re sick. I put some more salt and sugar in a bottle of water, give it to you. “Drink. Should help. Then a full English, some coffee with sugar, and an aspirin or two. You’ll be right as rain.”

Or maybe not...

“Seb?” You look at me pitiably. “Could we ask them to reschedule, you reckon? And go back to sleep for a week?”

“Come on Boss, it’s not as bad as all that...”

Except it is, because you are a total lightweight, and that was an epic amount of wine you knocked back. And oh god, I must have had a full bottle of whisky...

“We can have breakfast and a nap, and head out in the afternoon. As long as we’re there before dark it should be alright. Just get up, carefully... drink this, and then brush your teeth, and then let’s get something into your stomach...”

 

 

_I squint up at you. "I can't even get up... and you think I can go camping?" I ask plaintively._

_You put your hands underneath my arms and gently pull me up. I stand wavering on my feet, with your hands keeping me steady._

_"Oh *god*... so much worse... so much worse..." I say in an anxious voice._

_You push the drink towards me, and I scowl._

_"*Fine*... I'll drink your foul substance, witch..." I sigh, and tilt it back into my mouth._

_Halfway though, I gag. "Ugh... are you trying to kill me, Sebastian?" I demand. "You finally had enough of me?"_

_"Just drink, Jim! It will help..." you insist, hands still holding me up._

_I finish the drink and shove the bottle at you, making a face. I walk towards the bedroom, and you slide your arm around me to support me._

_I fall into one of the comfy chairs and lean my head against the back._

_"I want toast and coffee," I say weakly. "Why'd you let me drink so much??"_

 

 

I roll my eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been in a position to ‘let’ you do anything. I doubt you’d have responded well to me coming between you and your bottle of wine...

You have to have a decent breakfast before you attempt coffee, Jim. Trust a life-long drinker... Full English, _then_ you can caffeinate.”

 

 

_I can’t even yell at you because I feel a massive headache hovering over the horizon, and I want it to pass me by like a cloud. A dark, evil cloud that wants to destroy me._

_“Fine,” I grumble softly. Very softly. “Order me a damn full English. I don’t know what I’ll be able to keep down - but let’s just experiment, shall we?” Oh *god*... even sarcasm hurts...!_

_I drop my head onto the arms of the chair and whimper quietly as you call for room service._

 

 

I order two full Scottishes, a big bottle of coke, a pot of coffee, two glasses of whisky. You look at me like I’ve gone soft in the head. “I’m never drinking anything ever again,” you protest, but I insist that you can’t beat a hair of the dog.

I’m feeling pretty ropey myself. I open the window to get some fresh air in.

 

 

_You arrange everything on the table, and I drag my sorry arse over and throw myself in a chair._

_“I’m not in the least bit hungry,” I whine, snatching up a slice of what looks to be freshly baked bread, and buttering it generously. I nibble it mournfully while you tuck into your meal._

_“Eat, Jim...” you insist._

_I eye a plump sausage like it’s going to bite me, and I stab at it with my fork repeatedly. Satisfied, I lift it to my lips and take a small nibble. Nothing terrible happens, and I try a bite. Greasy. Good._

_Grudgingly, I keep eating under your watchful eye._

_“I’m perfectly capable of deciding how much breakfast I want to eat, Moran,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Coffee.”_

 

 

I think it’s probably safe by now. I pour us both coffee, add lots of sugar, and the whisky. I wouldn’t dare call this Irish coffee.

I get four aspirins from my first-aid kit, hand two to you, swallow the other two with my own coffee. Yuck. Yum.

Oh you poor thing, you look grey. I hope this food and drink is helping a little...

 

 

_I manage to keep down one sausage, a few bites of an egg on a piece of buttery toast, and a rasher of bacon. I stab the mushrooms, take a bite of the tomato and squash the rest, and glare at the beans. Then I drink the coffee, making a face at the whisky after-taste._

_I lean back in the chair. I think I'm sitting at an angle, but I don't bother righting myself to 90 degrees._

_I really do believe I'll die in the woods tonight. So nothing matters, anyway..._

_You're staring at me. Am I pouting? I think I'm pouting. I cover my face with my hand._

_"Didn't I order you to kill me?" I whine._

 

 

"You did, Sir," I reply. "I'd advise you to eat your beans instead. They're a great source of slow-release carbs. And have some coke; it's got sugar and it neutralizes stomach acid. Then we'll have a nap, and you'll feel much better afterwards." I hope.

 

 

_"Yesterday, fine dining... this morning, beans and coke. Tonight? Leaves, twigs and elderberries. How the mighty have fallen..." I say in the most morose voice I've ever heard from my lips. I shove a forkful of beans in my mouth and chew._

_"If I leave you the Empire, will you smother me in my sleep?"_

 

 

"I'll most certainly endeavour not to," I say, drinking a glass of coke myself. That is better. I'm not dying half as much as I was earlier. A nap will improve everything even more. I go to the window, light a fag. Ah, that's even better...

 

 

_I would demand a fag from you, but I don’t want any more substances in my body at the moment... I stand up on wobbly legs and stumble towards the bed. You look alarmed, like you’re going to lunge across the room to sweep me up... always the romantic rescuing hero, Tiger..._

_but I manage to stay upright long enough to get to the bed, and then fall straight forward onto it. I grab the covers, and pull them around me like some kind of lopsided sushi roll. The saddest sushi roll in the UK - suddenly I want to weep, but instead I cover my head with the blankets, and hope that you’ll eventually tire of all the melodrama and knock me out._

 

 

You make it to the bed, but roll yourself selfishly into all the blankets. I consider picking up a corner and rolling you out, but that might make you sick or fall or whatever, so I slide next to you and slowly pull some blanket towards me. You huff and pull back. Fuck's sake Jim - selfish little git.

I grab a sleeping bag from my luggage, zip it open, and cover myself in that, cuddling up to my mummified boss, holding you close - it'll all be a bit better after a nap...

 

 

_No, you can't have my blanket, Seb - I have made myself into a sad roll and I will not be moved._

_Where are you going!! Oh..._

_Cuddles are for nightmares, Seb... but today is a nightmare so I'll allow it._

_I sigh, feeling a bit better. ‘Sebbie’ is the last thought I have as I drift off to sleep._

 


	3. Voracious Sticklebacks

It's around 2 pm I think, judging from the light. I'm thirsty, but other than that I'm feeling much better. I stretch, shamble to the table to get the bottle of coke, have a few good gulps. That's better.

I look back at the bed, where you're lying - less grey than before I think, but I'm not sure if I should wake a sleeping Boss. The coffee is in a thermos, so still warm, but you probably don't want old coffee.

I leave the room, get down to the restaurant and ask for a fresh pot, look on my phone to see what the weather is going to be like tonight. As usual in Scotland - utterly changeable. Probably bright starlight, rain, and anything in between.

I make my way back up to our suite, to find a miserable blanket burrito boss sitting on the edge of the bed. "Got you coffee?" I try.

 

 

_I sigh from within my blanket and hold out my hand. You place a china cup in it, and I bring it to my lips._

_I slowly sip at the hot, sweet coffee in silence. Then I hold out the empty cup. When you remove it, I fall backwards onto the bed._

_"Another?" you ask._

_I sigh, and you take that for the yes that it is. As you prepare it, I haul myself back up to sitting, and within moments am handed a fresh cup._

_Once again I sip my coffee in silence, and hand you the empty cup._

_"When do we need to leave?" I mumble from within my warm cocoon._

 

 

I look at my phone - 2:47.

"We really should be leaving soon... it's a bit of a ride, especially because we have to go through the woods, and we want to have plenty of time to set the tent up and everything before it gets dark. How are you feeling now?"

 

 

_I shrug. "Like I just had a spa weekend. *Fabulous*."_

_You're silent, and I peek out from my blanket._

_"Oh, this is going to be a fun camping trip if you're going to feel injured every time I'm bitchy... think that strategy through, darling!_

_I feel - better than I did before the nap. No longer like death warmed over. More like the plague warmed over. Or one of the poxes, take your pick..."_

 

 

”The fresh air will do you a world of good," I decide, and start going through our packs to make sure we have everything we need.

"Jim - there's no way this wash bag will fit in here - what have you _got_ in here anyway? How many moisturizers will you _need_ for one night? Can't you go without shampoo and conditioner one morning? There's no shower... _three_ types of moist toilet paper!?"

 

 

_I snap into alertness. What? You're not taking anything *away*…?_

_"Well, I needed it big enough to fit the mirror-" I say in a sensible tone. Your expression is inscrutable. "Look, you can take out the shampoo and conditioner, I don't fancy washing my hair in a stream, anyway. One moisturizer and one type of toilet paper can go. Everything else stays..."_

 

 

"This mirror is ridiculous - don't you have a compact one that fits in a fucking handbag? Look - if you want this washbag in here, your clothes won't fit. You can go in looking well-moisturized and groomed, but naked, or you can leave this mad mirror here. I can tell you if you look ok - don't look like that, I know what you find acceptable in your looks."

 

 

_No, I do not have a *compact*, why on earth would I have a *compact*? Why are these saddlebags of yours so fucking small?" I ask, outraged. "I did not know it was the expectation to go into battle not perfectly groomed as always! I'll have no idea what I look like, is that what you're telling me?" The reality slowly dawns on me, and I look at you in horror._

 

 

I dig out one of my knives, with a nice shiny blade. "Will this do?" I show you. "It's what I use for a mirror. And no jokes about 'I can tell', I mean when I'm camping."

"How come you get to bring your knives and I don't get to bring my mirror?" you pout. I look at you open-mouthed. "These are to keep us _alive_ , not looking sharp. I promise I won't let you go into your battle with a hair out of place."

I remove the mirror, the unwieldy washbag, putting the essentials, which apparently include moisturizer and scented moist toilet paper as well as facial wipes _and_ antibacterial wipes, shaving foam, straight razor, badger-hair shaving brush, and aftershave, into a plastic bag that fits much better. I ignore your death stares.

 

 

_"Well, I suppose I'd better groom now before we leave, then!" I say, with muted indignation. I'm still far too hung-over to go on a full out tirade._

_"I have time for a shower, I assume? Don't answer that! I *told* you I would take a shower immediately before we left and as soon as we get back. Try and stop me," I storm into the bathroom and shut the door firmly - it's far too noisy to slam it._

_I look at the shower and open the door a crack. "Are you coming??"_

 

 

"Actually, that might be a good idea..." I grin. Hangovers always make me horny - and it's not like I lack in that department under normal circumstances. I don't think you'll be amenable to much, but I've never... well, hardly ever... seen you refuse a blowjob in the shower. I follow you inside, turn down the temperature - you are convinced one doesn't get clean unless one is properly boiled - and in a bout of recklessness I decide to test the waters – I kiss you.

 

 

_What?? I feel myself stiffening and starting to pull back. But there's *something* about this kissing..._

_This isn't how we kiss! Normally I kiss you, and it's aggressive and it's part of my domination of you._

_You don't kiss me! And not like *this*!_

_But it feels strangely familiar..._

_and comforting..._

_well, maybe it's like cuddling after a nightmare... maybe in certain circumstances it's acceptable..._

_like being hungover..._

_or being in Scotland..._

_or in the shower..._

_I realize I'm still allowing it..._

_If I'm going to put a stop to this, it pretty much has to be now or it makes no sense..._

_I realize I started kissing you back about ten seconds after you began..._

_Right, put a stop to this right now..._

_right now..._

 

 

Oh my giddy aunt, I'm actually being allowed to kiss you _properly_. Normally you'd push me away after a second and say something about using my mouth for something useful - but instead you stiffen, make to pull back, then don't, just stand there like your operating system has frozen - and just when I am about to pull back to see if I've broken my boss, you start doing the unthinkable - kissing back.

We're kissing in the shower. Kissing sweetly, like some normal couple or something, with warm water pouring over us. Some blocks your nose and you pull back, wrinkling it so incredibly adorably, like a kitten smelling something unpleasant, and you move back and resume kissing.

_Did you just compare James Moriarty to a kitten?_

He is _just like_ a kitten! He's small, fierce, adorable, deadly...

_You keep that thought to yourself if you want to live..._

 

 

_You're gazing at me like I'm the most adorable thing. What the hell? Since when am I the most adorable thing? Did something *change*? Because right now I'm *snogging* in the shower with my bodyguard even though I'm miserable because I'm hungover and about to go camping in Scotland! With no mirror! And no shampoo or conditioning!_

_I'm still snogging..._

_I'm *still snogging*._

_Did something... happen last night?_

_It's a blur after the restaurant... there was a lot of drinking and... *games*? Jesus, Moriarty... why not just invite all your employees to a Christmas party and play spin the bottle??_

_I'm still snogging!!_

_I break off from the kiss. "Didn't you say we were in a hurry?" I try to sound accusing, but I'm still feeling weak and it comes out sounding fucking coy instead. *Jesus*..._

 

 

"Not _that_ much of a hurry..." I say in a hoarse voice - huh. Whisky throat, surely.

"Fifteen minutes won't make a difference..."

I get back to kissing you, but move to your jaw instead, your neck... your beautiful neck... I stroke your hair, the back of your neck, your back...

Slowly I make my way down, kissing your chest, your stomach... getting to my knees, looking up at you, as I take your cock into my mouth. God, I love this cock... I love you...

 

 

_That face looking up at me...is a different face than all the countless times you've done this before._

_*What happened last night??*_

_Should I ask you? Not *now*, obviously..._

_I close my eyes; my head falls back, and my breathing grows irregular._

_Mmm. Tiger..._

 

 

Ah good, it's allowed... I wrap my fingers around your buttocks, get to work on that gorgeous cock of yours. I absolutely _love_ being on my knees in front of you, having you in my mouth, hearing your moans, your breaths, your gasps - your hand lands on my head, guiding my rhythm, which is even better. Don't pull my hair too hard Jim, I've got a headache as well... though... feeling your fingers dig into my scalp pretty soon makes me forget about any aches and pains and just focus on you...

 

 

_I forget about my hangover for several beautiful moments in the shower as you suck me and make me gasp and moan. When I'm shooting into your mouth, I feel like myself again - all is as it should be. Panting, I look down at your face. Gazing up at me adoringly._

_Yes - something definitely happened. Shit. Do I want to know?_

_Probably best to just ignore it. It's not like Tiger's going to bring it up, he goes along with whatever I want._

_I look down at you with affection. Such a good tiger..._

_We finish up in the shower, towel off, and then you react with surprise when I drag you out to the bedroom and push you down on the bed._

_There's something in my mind about reciprocating more often, something about this morning...?_

_"My memory is hazy, but... did I promise you a blow job this morning?" I ask, straddling you and shoving your arms over your head._

 

 

"You most definitely did," I assure you. Where did this come from? Whatever it is, I'm _not_ going to complain.

 

 

_"And you weren't going to remind me? What if I had forgotten?" I move my hands down your arms and your chest. "If there's something else I should know, I suppose you'll tell me?"_

_My hands move down to your abdomen, and I can feel your muscles trembling. I look at your face - something definitely happened and you're not telling me. I want to know. I'm dying to know. I don't want to know. I'm scared to know._

_"Well - when the time is right, perhaps..." I murmur, and dive onto your cock._

_When I hear your moaning, I feel myself relax. Sebastian Moran is not going to interrupt a blow job to talk. I'm safe... for now._

_Satisfied, I suck harder._

 

 

There's no fucking way I'm going to tell you anything at all about last night. I'm not suicidal.

Besides - nothing happened! We played a game, told each other some stuff about our childhood - nothing too personal - kissed, had sex. Nothing peculiar.

 

_Your face behind the mask - my heart shattering into a million stars - you giggling - crying on the loo - the kiss oh god the kiss - the sex with you being so sweet –_

 

No, nothing... we just got drunk. It was fun.

I could of course tell you you promised me a blowjob every morning...

 

 

_I really should do this more often... you have a beautiful cock. I enjoy it. Especially when it makes you crazed... I'm not up for teasing or withholding today. No games, just straight blowing you - and you're *loving* it._

_Well, I already know tonight's going to be a shit-show, even though you're being stubbornly optimistic. So hopefully this blow job will give you the strength you need to get through the experience of *camping with Jim Moriarty*… I shudder._

_At this point, I'm not confident that either of us will make it out of those woods..._

_I continue with what may be the last blow job you receive, and the last blow job I give - I'd better make it count._

 

 

You’re giving it your all, and I’m overwhelmed - it’s not a treat I get often and half the time you’re doing it to manipulate me; but you’re _so good_ at it...

I’m moaning and writhing as you’re making me feel things I’ve never experienced in my life, I’m pretty sure... if I’d had any blowjob coming close to this, surely I would have remembered... oh god...

“God... _Jim_...”

 _I love you_...

NO! Don’t think that!

_But I do..._

Yes but you can’t ever say it. Keep your mouth shut, soldier. You can never ever say this. He’ll kill you. Or worse, laugh.

Enjoy your fucking blowjob. It’s great.

 

 

_When I look up at your face, you seem so *troubled*... what the fuck? You’re getting a blow job from *me*; your mind should be full of fireworks, streamers, banners stating “Suck it, world! I’m being blown by Jim Moriarty!” And instead... you look *conflicted*!_

_“Is something *wrong*, Tiger?” I ask, perplexed. My hand rests on your abdomen._

 

 

“Yes, you stopped...” I manage.

“I’m sorry, it’s fucking _amazing_. It really is. I was just... got a few stabs in my head. Bloody hangover...

Please don’t stop?”

 

 

_Satisfied, I return to the task. Soon I have you moaning again, and then gasping, and then - the shivering and shuddering start, and you’re hurtling into what seems a pretty sweet orgasm. There *have* to be fireworks going off in your mind now._

_Smugly, I crawl over your body and fall to the bed next to you._

_“Now we nap again before we go?” I ask hopefully._

 

 

Oh fuck oh fuck oh _fuuuuuuckkkkkkk_... this is - god - ahg -

My brain short-circuits as _everything_ inside me is twisted, every drop of sensation wrung out, all of it gathering in my cock, to then explode into wave after wave of dizzying ecstasy.

I'm completely drained, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what planet we're on.

I'm vaguely aware that you're speaking -

"No..." I manage. "No Jim, we need to leave... just - five seconds - I need to - find my brain back... I think you sucked it out of me..."

 

 

_Hmm... what would make you willing to delay for a bit longer?_

_I wrap an arm around you and rest my head on your shoulder. "Take your time. Mmm. Cosy."_

 

 

You're fooling no one, Boss...

"Look, Jim, you've been dying to get your hands on these guys forever. We _need_ to take them out. I could go alone, but you made it _very clear_ you want to do this in person. So - we have to leave, and we have to leave now. You'll feel much better after some fresh air - don't you love the air up here? It's got so much more oxygen in it than in London! It's like a natural high. And it's going to get better when we get to the forest.

Come on, put your warm clothes on... "

I get up, put on my leathers, while you grumblingly dress yourself.

 

 

_I'm feeling quite miserable by the time I finish getting dressed._

_You're right, of course - I won't forgive myself if I don't see their expressions when we burst in the door. I want the final face they see in this life to be *mine* - just like I promised them. I'm not one to break a promise, especially a spiteful one._

_Ok, that helps to think about. Eye on the prize - I have to think like an Olympian in training. I want the gold medal for murder and revenge. I *want* it._

_"Let's fucking do this," I snarl, and put on my shades._

 

 

You seem to have put on your big-boy pants, good. I sling the saddlebags over my shoulder, grab the suite key cards, and we head for the lifts.

At reception they give me the keys of the bike that has been delivered as well as the two helmets that came with it. It's a beauty - I can’t wait to let rip on some winding Scottish roads before we have to make our way through the forest.

I throw on the saddlebags, get on, look at you. "What?"

"Do I have to sit on - that?!"

I look at the back seat. "Yeah?" What's wrong _now_?

"There's no seat!" you exclaim.

Puzzled, I point at the seat, look back at you.

"That's no seat! That's a panty liner glued to a mudguard! And you put your bags on it! How am I not going to fall off?"

"You're going to have to hold onto me _very tightly_ ," I grin.

 

 

_"You did *not* think this through, Tiger..." I say through gritted teeth. "Your plan is airtight except for one thing - I'm going to be *miserable*!" I shout. "Which is going to make you *miserable*... So if the plan is to make us such bitchy rage-monsters that we tear those two idiots to ribbons and scratch their eyes out... well! I'm already halfway there - we just have to keep from murdering *each other* so we can save some rage for tomorrow morning... you are *lucky* I probably need you to get out of the woods alive..."_

_I look at the seat furiously, throw a leg over and try to balance myself on the back of the bike. I manage to sit without falling and exhale slowly._

_"Can't wait to breathe all the five-star air, Tiger! Let's *go*..."_

 

 

“You’re going to be _fine_ , Boss...” I say. “Hold on tight.”

We head off, manoeuvring out of Inverness into the direction of the woods. It’s not long before we’re on deserted country roads. I’m breathing in deeply - ah, this is the life! En route to a job well planned, fresh air, a good bike between my legs, a beautiful man on the back... a full night in a forest with said man planned... mmmm...

I put my hand on your knee, only to have it slapped harshly and something shouted at me - presumably to keep my hands on the handlebars. I grin, put my other hand on your other knee - this is a straight stretch of road and this bike balances well.

Wow, Jim. Those are creative threats you’re screaming.

 

 

_I am *not* enjoying the ride. My jaw is clenched so tight, it *hurts*. I try to relax the muscles and give up. I'll just have to be tense until we arrive..._

_And it's *not* that I've never been on a motorcycle - I know how to ride. But I would have chosen something very sleek and compact, not this beast that I have to perch on like some kind of bird._

_And it doesn't help that you're behaving like a delinquent - racing like a maniac, removing a hand from the handlebars to touch me. Then in response to my threats, you remove *both* hands and laugh your arse off._

_You are so dead, Moran... at the very least, you will be *so punished for this*..._

_Unfortunately I have to wait until we get back to civilization... I didn't bring a single piece of equipment with me, because I was in such a panic about essentials like clothes and hair products._

_So unless I want to fashion a crop out of a tree branch... and tie you up with creeping vines... and rub thistles and stinging nettles on your skin... hmm... Well, I suppose I can imagine a few scenarios to pass the time..._

 

 

It's only about an hour and a half until we get to the woods. I follow the road for a bit, but pretty soon we get to the point where we're going to have to turn into the woods if we don't want to risk being seen going up the road to the cabin. They sure chose their place with privacy in mind...

You're not going to enjoy this. The suspension on this bike is pretty good but off-roaders weren't built with passengers in mind...

I turn, open my visor. You open yours. You already look at the end of your tether...

"We're going to have to travel through the woods from here on, for about fifteen miles. It's going to take us around one to two hours, depending on the landscape, and it's going to be a bumpy ride. I'm sorry... hold on tight, alright?"

 

 

_"What?" I demand. "*One to two hours*?? How was this salient detail not included when you first proposed this plan? Along with everything else I've discovered along the way?" I rub my eyes. "I'm not happy; if you can't tell by my incredibly not happy face!" I shout, glaring furiously at you. I slam down my visor and wrap my arms around you tightly._

_I sigh. I might be furious at you, but there's something so comforting about your body._

_Maybe there's some angry woodsy sex in your immediate future. Assuming I don't fall off during this hell-ride... in that case, there will be only angry woodsy homicide._

 

 

It shouldn't take more than an hour, I hope, depending on the obstacles we encounter. There are no rivers to cross if I manoeuvre right, but I have no idea about the terrain and the density of the trees and bushes. And it's always best to play safe with James Moriarty... if we get there in an hour, he's going to be grumpy, if it's going to be two hours, he's going to be infernal, any more and he'll be homicidal.

Right, off we go - it's not too dense and bumpy, but judging from the sounds coming from your helmet every bump is one too many. I'm glad we're wearing sturdy clothes - branches whipping us is inevitable. It's rained recently so the leaves and ground are slippery - it's taking all my concentration to keep us upright.

 

 

_I'm getting more and more incensed... not only am I cursing like a sailor, my accent is getting stronger and stronger with every bump. It's a good thing you can't hear me over the engines, or I won't stop hearing about it - 'oh, Jim - your real accent is so sexy' you'll exclaim, and then you'll get yourself terribly murdered and that'll be the end of it._

_*Bump*_

_"Fuck's *sake*!!" I yell. "Keep it up, Sebastian - all your worries are almost feckin' over!"_

_*Bump*_

_“Jaysus *Christ* almighty!!"_

_*Bump* *Bump*_

_(unintelligible screaming)_

 

 

Shit - shit shit _shit!_

I manage to brake just before we drop into a ditch with quite a lot of water in it. Quite an awful lot of water, actually. You might almost call it a stream. Drat. I was hoping this wouldn't happen. How are we going to get across? We're going to have to go around it, and you're not going to be happy if that takes a lot of time.

I look upstream - I hope this is coming from underground somewhere nearby...

You're mumbling something in your helmet. I open my visor - "What?"

 

 

_”I'm just curious..." I say, smiling with my teeth. "Are we going to be A) Attempting a madcap stunt that will dump us in the stream? B) Taking the long way 'round, and arriving shortly after midnight? or C) setting the entire forest on fire, and taking the feckers out that way? Choose carefully."_

 

 

"Why don't you try to set a wet Scottish forest on fire, while I navigate around this stream," I suggest. I find a longish branch and poke into the water - it's not very deep, but we might get stuck in the mud and then we're even worse off... Let's go upstream a bit and see what it's like.

We're back on the bike and I've stopped trying to hear what's coming out of your mouth - it's mostly unpleasant things about my parentage and my brain capacity, as far as I can decipher.

The stream doesn't look like it's letting up, but it's getting faster moving, yet no narrower, meaning it's shallower - I stop and get another stick, and indeed it is not deep. I take off my boots and wade in a bit - yes, it seems like it's shallow all the way across, and the mud is not too bad. Right.

"It's probably safest if I ride it across and you wade through," I suggest entirely reasonably, though I know what you'll make of that plan...

 

 

_I cross my arms, glowering._

_"I am not *wading through the stream*. I'd rather take the long way, arrive after midnight and sleep on a bed o' thistles and toadstools. I'll wake up in the very best mood you can imagine, perfect for a murderin' spree - only I may not be able to stop at just two._

_Or - ride the feckin' bike and *don't* get stuck or dump me in the stream. I don't believe any threats are necessary... Just *don't*."_

 

 

"That's not it," I explain. "If we ride through water this deep, we're going to get splattered with mud - especially you, as you're on the back. I'm wearing leather, it's not such a big deal - but you're going to be miserable in wet clothes. It's really better to wade through, carry your shoes, roll up your jeans, dry off on the other side and get back on. Don't worry - I packed towels, you'll be dry and warm on the back of the bike in five minutes."

 

 

_"And all I have tah do is wade through a freezing cold stream! Are there fish in dere?? What if I bump into a *fish*? Or a frog? Or a tadpole? Or fish eggs? D'ya understand how appalling dis is??" Furiously I bend over and start unlacing my shoes. "Here ah go, Tiger... rollin' up mah jeans, carryin' mah shoes... what about camping did yeh tink ah would love, yeh eejit?" I glare at you, and slowly step into the stream. I screw up my face and squeeze my eyes shut. "Oh, yeh *fecker*…"_

 

 

“If you bump into a fish, grab it and I’ll kill it for the insolence, then serve it to you for dinner,” I reply. Honestly, you’d expect someone who’s happy to cut people open bit by bit would be less squeamish about fish...

But I love your accent getting all Irish! That _never_ happens. Except when you were getting pissed last night...

Oh... last night...

I hadn’t thought about it in a bit. The memory punches me in the stomach whilst making my heart both swell and race...

I zip off my boots, grab the saddlebags, sling them over my shoulder, and get in with you. This bit _is_ slippery and if you fall you’re going to kill me, or catch your death of cold. And if _I_ fall with the bike I don’t want the bags to get wet. I let you lean on my arm and do my very best not to grin at the Dublin invectives floating through the forest, because I’m pretty sure you’ll kill me for that as well.

Actually... isn’t there a cautionary tale or two about how you shouldn’t go into the woods with a known axe murderer? If there isn’t, there should be one... maybe I should write it, if I ever get out of here... though I’m not sure how the cautionary tale goes if you are a known axe murderer yourself.

 

 

_You walk with me instead of riding, which mollifies me somewhat. But the cursing continues and halfway across I realize my true accent came out a while ago, which makes me so furious I can't even curtail it._

_But then there's a part of me that feels better for having you to lean on, and you have a way of making me feel so *safe* and *comforted* and... that sets me off, too._

_Jaisus... I'm feeling comforted by you and furious at you about it..._

_I almost feel sorry for you for what's coming... Almost._

 

 

We manage to get to the other side without falling over or being attacked by voracious sticklebacks. I get a towel from the backpack, which gets all muddy and is hence now _my_ towel. I don’t argue; I even warm your feet up by rubbing them vigorously and holding them under my t-shirt for a bit.

Then I wade back to get the bike. It’s always fun riding a bike through a ditch - I end up rather muddy but make it across without falling or getting stuck.

 

 

_I wait for you on the other side of the stream, feeling grumbly. My feet still feel cold, which is irritating. But I’m distracted momentarily by watching you - first wading back. You’re so graceful and confident in the physical realm... Without me to keep upright, you look remarkably relaxed and casual as you cross._

_And *then* - you get on the bike. It’s all I can do to keep my mouth from dropping open. I was behind you when you were riding it before - and pretty fixated on myself and my own fury. But the moment I see you throw your leg over the seat - *fuck*. I’m picturing you fucking me against a tree... blowing me on a bed of soft moss... dragging me into a fecking cave... anything you want. *Jaisus Christ*, Jim... remember how cross you are._

_You rev up the engine, and then you’re just *gunning* across - you’ve *covered* in mud, and... and..._

_you’re grinning at me with your blue eyes lit up, and I can’t tear my eyes off you._

_Well, fuck... maybe camping has its moments, Tiger._

 

 

I’m smiling at you as I get to the other side - surely even you noticed what fun that was? You look less pissed off than before - you’re looking positively hungry, in fact.

I grin. Oh, you have a thing for muddy bikers, do you? Good to know...

I look at my phone - if the landscape doesn’t get too difficult we should be in the area where I thought to camp within half an hour at most.

I use the muddy towel to get the worst of the mud off, put the bags back on the bike, grin at you. “Ready for the last stretch?” I pat the back seat.

 

 

_I heave a sigh, give you a mighty eyeroll, and then cross my eyes. Then I throw my leg over the seat, pull on the helmet, and slam the visor down._

_You're not the *only* hot thing on this bike, Tiger... I press myself against your body and wrap my arms around you tightly._

 

 

Hmmm, boss cuddles. Sure, you might say you are holding on tightly to not fall off, but allow me my illusions...

It’s starting to rain, which is typical, but we’re under quite a tight canopy so it’s not too bad yet, and knowing Scotland it could stop as soon as it’s started... if we’re lucky. It’ll be alright when the tent is up but setting up in the rain is a pain.

We’re making good progress - the land is sloping but not too steeply and this bike handles like a dream - I should get myself one and go riding more often, really... maybe you’ll be so enamoured after this trip that you’ll be wanting to go camping more often... we could get out of town when we have a few days off, go to Dartmoor or the Lake District...

 

 

_Ugh... *rain*… I'm not feeling it too much, but I know it's there..._

_Sorry, Tiger - say goodbye to sex under the stars. I'm going to sulk in the tent until morning._

_I can't wait until this nightmare is over. I'm never leaving civilization again..._

 

 

I stop, check my phone - yup, this is about right. Time to look around for a good spot.

I ride around a bit and chance upon the most perfect location imaginable. A mossy clearing, level, overlooking a clear stream that seems to spring from the rocks not far away - oh great, fresh spring water!

As we approach it, the sun breaks through - how perfect is this?!

I ride over, stop the bike, beam at you.

“Welcome home for the night.”

 

 

_Somehow it didn't feel real until this moment. I knew theoretically we were spending the night in the woods. But actually arriving at the spot made it crystal fucking clear..._

_We're spending the night in the woods._

_I laugh woefully, and it almost turns into crying for a brief moment._

_I get off the bike, wander around and look at the surroundings. I turn back and look at you in horror._

_"So... what do you *do* in the woods? There's nothing to *do*!"_

 

 

“There’s lots to _do_ ,” I grin. “Let’s start by setting up the tent while it’s dry, then we cook, then we eat, then we drink and be merry. Though less merry than last night. And I’m sure I can think of a thing or two to keep you occupied after that...” I wink.

I get the tent from the bag and start rolling it out. “This is easier with two people...”

 

 

_"Setting up the tent? Cooking? You didn't mention there would be *work* involved..." I whine. I nudge the tent with my foot to unroll it._

_"Why does anyone go to *all this effort*, just to sit under some trees and be rained on? When they could just stay home? Or go to a hotel?"_

_I kick the tent along until it's fully unrolled. "Now what? Is there a tab to pull and it inflates?"_

 

 

"Because it's fun - look how beautiful it is here!" I sweep my arm to indicate the vista. The sun is getting low and golden, shining upon the trees and rocks opposite our camping spot. It really is gorgeous. I'm really proud of finding it.

"No, you have to put these poles together..." I see your unhappy face and rethink. "You know, I've done this so often, it's probably faster if I do it alone. Why don't you... relax for a bit, while I set it up?"

It's probably easier to set this tent up myself than with someone who doesn't know what they're doing...

I start the practised movements of erecting the two-man tent. It's been ages... I realize I'm whistling as I'm doing it.

 

 

_Sure, I'll *relax* for a bit... I look around and find a log to sit on. A *log*._

_I drop onto it feeling extremely grumpy. You on the other hand are *whistling*. Do you actually enjoy this?_

_It's pretty. So what._

_I look around to see what exactly I'm supposed to be impressed by._

_It turns out it actually *is* very pretty - what gets my attention is the golden light shining on you in your biker gear like a goddamned spotlight. I lick my lips. Hurry up and get the stupid tent set up, Seb..._

 

 

It's been years, but it's coming back easily - and I've set these up by myself before, with my buddy gathering wood or something. Not that I see you doing that... but that's alright, we don't need any. We've got a camping stove - all the mod cons for you, boss.

It's much easier to set a tent up on a forest floor than a desert one, and with the moss and the leaves it's going to be nice and soft - with the insulation mat protecting you from the cold you'll be as comfortable as at home.

I finish, roll out our mats, open the self-inflation valves, put the rest of the gear out - right, looks like we're all moved in.

I move to join you on your log. You're looking at the view - it really is quite stunning. I knew you'd take to it.

 

 

_"All done?" I ask, bored. "Well, it doesn't look like pictures of glamping I saw online, but I suppose it will do..."_

_I look at you. "Now what? Oh - I brought marshmallows. In films, people are always roasting them on sticks. I felt like I wouldn't get the whole silly camping experience without melting a gooey gelatin product on a branch. Did you do that in the army?"_

 

 

I laugh - "We did, in fact. After we'd done the sausages. I brought a camping stove, but I should be able to build a fire if you like." You're looking not too fussed one way or the other, but I want a fire now - sitting around the fire with you at night is one of the main things I'd been looking forward to.

"I'll go off to see if I can find some dry wood..."

I dash off, leaving you on your log.

 

 

_My mouth drops open as I see you dash off between the trees. You left me alone!! In the woods!!!_

_What if one of those wildcats comes by, looking for a snack?_

_I hear a twig snap, and my head turns quickly. Another twig snaps in the opposite direction. Oh, you have got to be kidding me..._

_I pull out a knife and stand up. If there are maniacs loose in the woods, I can take them. Wildcats are another story..._

_A twig snaps close by._

_"Sebastian!!" I yell at the top of my lungs._

 

 

"Yes?" I ask from behind you, my arms full of wood. You _yelp_ and jump in the air, brandishing a knife at me.

"What's wrong?!" I call, dropping the wood, reaching for my gun, looking around - I see no danger, but what have you spotted?!

You're just looking at me. "You left me _alone_! I was trying to defend myself against wild creatures!"

I look around at the peaceful clearing. "What wild creatures?"

"I don't _know!_ " you yell. "I was trying to prepare for whatever would come at me!"

I am tempted to laugh, but you are looking genuinely upset, so I force my face to stay neutral.

"There's nothing that would come at you here... I assure you that _you_ are the most dangerous thing in these woods," I smile, kissing you on the cheek as I take your knife, fold it, slip it back into your pocket.

I pick up the wood I gathered, which is reasonably dry, start feathering a stick.

 

 

_"You said wildcats!" I accuse. "I distinctly heard wildcats... I don't know that I can murder one if it comes at me. How big do they get??"_

 

 

I try not to laugh as I hold my hands about a foot apart. "They're much the same as normal cats, except wild - and they're _very_ unlikely to attack you, they're probably hiding at least two miles away from us.

Look, why don't you get your knife back out and check how dry those branches are?"

 

 

_"So I could potentially see cats wandering around in the forest??" I ask with fascination. "I want one! Can you catch one and bring it to me? Make sure it's the prettiest one you can find, Sebbie._

_How do you check branches for dryness with a knife? That sounds more boring than looking for forest cats. Do you have something like a burlap sack to carry the cat in, I don't want to get scratched..."_

 

 

"You do _not_ want a Scottish wildcat. It will just piss all over the tent, scratch it and us open, and run off. And you most certainly don't want to bring one to London, as it will do much the same, with the exception of scratching open the tent. If you want a cat, we'll go to the shelter when we're back home and get you any cat you like. You can get one that's all cuddly, or a kitten, or a long-haired one that you can stroke ominously whilst threatening people..." I grin.

"As to the branches - you scratch off the bark and see if the wood underneath is wet or dry, like this," I show you. You don't look very interested.

 

 

_"Ugh... why didn't you just buy firewood?" I wander off and gaze at the spring._

_"Look, there's berries over there. Can we eat those?"_

 

 

"You can, but don't swallow the seeds - they contain cyanide. And I didn't buy firewood because you would have had to carry it on your back, and I don't see you doing that..."

I check my own wood. This is a good batch - it was lying in a sheltered spot and it's all quite dry. This will make a nice fire.

 

 

_I sigh and continue to wander. "Forget it...hardly seems worth the effort. Why don't you show me inside the tent?"_

 

 

I look at the tent. It's a tent. Or might this be a subtle come-on?

I drop the firewood, open the flap of the tent, bow and gesture. "Your tent, my Lord. The most comfortable self-inflating mattresses spread on a bed of the softest moss and the most velvety leaves, topped with the downiest sleeping bag that shall keep you warm even if a blizzard were to descend upon us during the night, and it comes with a pre-heated Tiger thrown in. The tent is finest SAS material, capable of withstanding both sandstorms and snowstorms, neither of which is likely in September in Scotland. You shall sleep better than ever."

 

 

_I peek my head in and look around. "Hmm. Why don't you take your clothes off. Now."_

 

 

Oh - very good...

but there’s no reason to do it in the tent. We’re all alone and it’s nice and warm - though I may want to light some mosquito repellent, because the midges are gathering.

“One sec,” I say, and get a mosquito coil and a lighter out of the bag.

You look indignant at me not obeying an order immediately.

“I assure you you want me to do this before we remove any clothes,” I grin as I light it and pleasant-smelling smoke drifts up.

Then I look at you, remembering the way you looked at me earlier, and I slowly zip down my boots, step out of them and my socks. I lick my lips, staring into your eyes, then start peeling up my t-shirt, pull it over my head, drop it on the ground.

I stalk towards where you are standing, in my leather trousers, sliding my thumbs under the waistband, slowly undoing the button, zipping down, to reveal my brief-covered cock taking a definite interest.

I lower the trousers, get out of them, then pull at the waist of the briefs to liberate my cock, pull them down, and let them drop.

I’m standing before you, naked, the sunlight warming my body.

 

 

_I smile as I watch. Ohh… putting on a show for me, are we? *Very* nice..._

_I've been thinking about what's underneath that biker gear since you rode across the stream like a hellion._

_I walk around you, trailing my fingers along your abdomen and back... then cupping your arse cheeks in my hands and fondling them._

_Suddenly I press my body against yours, wrapping my arms around your muscular chest._

_"Do you like feeling me pressed up against you on a bike?" I ask in a breathy voice._

 

 

"I love it," I reply, grinding my arse back against you. "But I prefer to feel it without having to concentrate on not falling over...

And what about you? Do you enjoy being pressed up against a leather-clad Tiger?"

 

 

_"We-ell, I *do*... minus the bumps and the ridiculously small seat. I prefer *this*"… I press my lips to your spine and lick upwards towards your neck._

_"Is there a reason we're out here? I don't see anywhere I can fuck you without getting dirty..."_

_I move one hand down to your cock._

 

 

"No reason at all. Let's enter our humble abode," I gesture, and crawl in before you. I like the idea of fucking in nature, but if you prefer being inside a tent, then inside a tent we shall be.

I close the valves on the mattresses and spread out our sleeping bag over them, lie down on it.

 

 

_I crawl in after you and pull my clothes off slowly. Throwing item by item in the corner of the tent, I watch with satisfaction as your eyes glaze over._

_"There are no stars yet, Sebastian..." I say seductively. "When there are... you'll get your wish."_

_The look you give me is suddenly so full of longing, I freeze._

_What did I say? Where did that come from??_

_"You remembered..." you say softly._

_"Remembered - what?" I ask in confusion. "Having sex under the stars? I didn't, actually - it just came out. Was that something we - talked about last night?" I don't know why my heart is pounding, and you look like you're going to jump on me._

 

 

“Yes, we did...” I whisper. I don’t trust my voice to do anything else at the moment.

I’m not sure what to do - I don’t know what the rules are now.

Oh well - the worst that can happen is that you rebuff me. And that would certainly not be the first time...

I reach out for you, crossing the immeasurable distance between us, expecting to be blocked any moment. My hand reaches your arm, touching you, stroking you. My torso follows my arm - will I be able to kiss you?

This has never seemed so important as now...

 

 

_I reach up and grab your arm, keeping you still. What the fuck?_

_I stare at you in confusion, and you look crushed and then resigned._

_There's a *familiarity* to this that makes no sense, but it's something I kind of just want to... fall into._

_Obviously I *can't*..._

_So why do I *want* to?_

_"What's going on, Sebastian? What *happened* last night?" I demand._

_You shake your head, seemingly unwilling to speak._

_"But something did happen??" I say, irritated. Well, I'm not going to push if it's something I don't want to hear._

_I think back to the hotel this morning - kissing in the shower - the thing I'm allowed to do when hungover, or in Scotland, or showering. Well - could the same apply to camping? I certainly don't intend to go ever again._

_'What happens in the deep woods stays in the deep woods', I hear in my head._

_"Well. If you're not going to speak - you might as well put those lips to good use," I say gruffly. I pull your face to mine, and draw you into a feverish kiss._

 

 

I'm stopped. Of course I'm stopped. Any expressions of affection, if they happen at all, must be instigated by you. I've overstepped my boundaries.

What happened last night? I don't know, Boss. We got plastered. I saw something I wasn't supposed to see. I fell deeply, madly, irrevocably in love with the last person in the world I should have.

So - did something _happen_? Not as such, no. Your Tiger is a bit broken - but he was anyway, and you won't notice. I will keep my hands to myself, don't worry.

And then you're saying the familiar words and I open my mouth expecting to be pushed onto your cock - and find myself pulled to your face instead, and you're kissing me - and not your usual possessive ferocious kissing, but passionate and - almost desperate, beseeching. What is going on?!

Your hands are grasping my back, my head, and I let it happen - not daring to grasp back, but not able _not_ to - my hands find the sides of your chest, almost tentatively, touching ever so slightly, like I'm sneaking a touch and hoping you won't notice.

 

 

_Something’s not quite right. I feel your hands touching my sides lightly._

_I want... more?_

_Yes - I want to feel... more of you._

_Something definitely happened last night that changed our dynamic... and when we return to civilization, I’m sure things will sort themselves out. But here in the woods...? Whatever is going on has a presence that fills the entire tent._

_I pull your hands up to my face. “I don’t know what happened in Inverness...” I whisper. “And I suspect I don’t want to know. And maybe it’s the goddamn air you’ve been going on and on about - but I want you to touch me like you fucking mean it...” My lips return to yours and the kiss grows heated._

 

 

Oh my god... is this... am I chinking the armour?

No don't be silly Seb - don't get your hopes up, for fuck's sake -

But you -

Your eyes - your whisper... and there is _such_ electricity between us, it's so much stronger than just the sexual tension -

_You're just imagining that - it's you who's changed, not him -_

 

Oh _fuck it all_ \- you want me to touch you like I mean it and I _will_.

 

I wrap my arms around you and pull you as close as I can, desperate for _more_ contact with your body, _all_ of it, that beautiful body, to diminish the distance between us by reducing the physical distance, like sympathetic magic, to feel your heart beat so close, you who claim not to have a heart... our tongues intertwine, moans escape; mine? yours? does it matter?

I pull us down onto the sleeping bag, so my legs can get involved, one can wrap over you and pull you close, our cocks rubbing together, both stiff with desire for one another, my hand strokes your side, your back - the sinuous muscles moving under your skin as you're stroking me in turn, pulling me closer - we're both grasping at each other like desperate drowning men, kissing like we are trying to make up for all those wasted months spent not kissing... little noises escape as the desperation in our bodies grows too strong to remain silent.

 

 

_"Oh, *fuck*..." I groan as I feel desire flood my body, setting me on fire._

_No, I don't know what happened last night - but I know it has *something* to do with what's happening now... things are getting so heated so fast, and I've never had an experience like this before, and... and... I want to *see* what it's like!_

_"Show me..." I murmur. "Show me what it can be like, Sebastian..."_

_I'm not clear what I'm asking you, but I suspect you'll know. You always were so *emotional* about everything._

_(Yes, and you're being totally rational, Jim...)_

_I make the mistake of looking at your face, and your eyes, your eyes are *devouring* me..._

_I moan softly against your lips._

 

 

Show me... what it can be like?!

What what can be like? Me touching you like I mean it?!

Oh - god - you know -

FUCK...

How do you know?!

You always know everything. Somehow you've read the change in me and you're going to _destroy_ me... Going to let me touch you, get all lost in my fucking loved-up mind, and then you're going to push me away - laugh at me - try to make me cry -

_FUCK!!!_

What can I do?!

You've made it abundantly clear time and again that emotions are anathema, not to be indulged in by either you or me. Any emotion I've shown other than pain has been swiftly stamped out - how could you ever accept love? Or - infatuation?

But what can I do? If I don't respond, you'll definitely get pissed off. And you'll still make fun of me. But if I do respond, you're going to fucking rip my heart out...

Bollocks bollocks bollocks bollocks...

 

 

_You're hesitating. *Why are you hesitating*?_

_You were all over me and now you seem... frozen. Conflicted. Angsty._

_Seriously - *last night*... What. The Fuck. Happened._

_Well, just fucking face it, Jim –_

_he's been having..._

_*feelings*._

_And worse, it's affecting *me*._

_And that can't happen._

_I *know* it can't happen!!_

_But I *liked* feeling uncaged and having fun and being flirty and kissing and ..._

_Can't I just have this for another night? Like a little holiday?_

_But... maybe... *he* can't have it for just one night?_

_Ohhh..._

_realization comes hurtling at me like cold water._

_"All right, time out..." I say, pulling back. I think I even manage to look concerned. "Is this confusing things for you, Sebastian? This has been an unusual couple of days and it's made things feel... unusual. We can just do our *usual*, if you prefer. I'm not trying to cloud the waters, I was just... trying something. But if that's... *unfair* to you? Or whatever..." I look at you, perplexed. "What do *you* want to do?"_

_Huh. I don't think I've ever asked that question. It's really fucking weird waiting to hear a response._

_"Sebbie?"_

 

 

Time out!?

When did _you_ ever call for a time out?

Is this confusing things for me?

Well no shit... is it that obvious?

What do... _I_ want to do?

What do you mean? What kind of trap is _this_ , you evil fiend from hell? You sadistic bastard who could make the devil's mother weep? You... beautiful broken psychopath...?

What if it...

_No._

No hear me out...

_Impossible._

No but Seb... what if he's _serious?_

This is James Moriarty!

But could you _risk_ it...?

 

...

fuck.

I can't not do this. It will probably end in tears. But if I ever hope to get through that armour to see if there's a human underneath... like the human I saw yesterday... I need to do this, even if it breaks me.

 

Here goes nothing...

 

I reach out, pull you close, kiss you with every ounce of passion that's inside me.

You want to feel what it's like, Jim? Do you _really?!_ Well, feel this, you magnificent motherfucker...

 

 

_*God*, the war that's going on in your head... I'm watching you with fascination._

_If I felt human emotions, I imagine I'd be going through some kind of wringer... I do feel twinges of *something*... shades of remorse? Guilt? *Compassion*?_

_Oh, this weekend is just getting weirder and weirder. I guess I was right - as soon as I loosen my control, things get fucked up._

_But I'm confident that things will return to normal when we get back home, so there's really no need to freak out..._

_*Of course I'm not freaking out*._

_It only feels that way because I'm fucking in limbo waiting for you to *do* something, and it's *totally freaking me out*!_

_Anyway, you seem to have made a decision because you're throwing yourself at me and we're back to the deep kissing I was enjoying so much._

_Better._

_Wait - what's *that* feeling?_

_Relief._

_Longing._

_Fuck's *sake*, Moriarty!! You are going to have a hell of a job cleaning up after this ill-advised emotional blowout…_

_Fuck it - I want this, and I'm not stopping._

_"Mmm. *Sebbie*..." I murmur in between kisses._

 

 

Do you _have_ to whisper my name in that sweet tone? Can't you feel how it tears straight into the heart and leisurely tears it into little strips? No? Just me then...

Fuck it James Moriarty.

This will probably kill me, but I'm going to take you at your word. I'm going to let myself go - like I _mean_ it - and I'm going to love you with every emotion that is left in my black broken battle-scarred soul.

And then if I die after - at least I'll have had this.

"Jim..." I whisper, the short syllable containing layers of feeling that I don't want to think of right now. I stroke your hair, so soft, so sleek... your cheek, with just the hint of stubble appearing... your neck, the smooth skin... all those treasures that I'd only ever been able to look at or touch in fleeting passing, now here for me to linger on. Your perfectly formed shoulder, your muscular back, your arse - oh god that arse - and back up over your side, to your neck, your jaw... I am concentrating on the stroking, determined to remember the sensation, even as I'm kissing you with a passion that has always been unthinkable.

You'd have to be made of granite not to feel this... but you are James Moriarty... you make granite look like a soft weepy mess...

 

 

_Hmm... I could get used to this..._

_*No*, you could *not*._

_Oh... No! This is a curiously pleasurable experience just for tonight!_

_*Better*..._

_I move my hand to your hair, your cheek, along your shoulder. So much skin, and I normally don't touch it except to torment... what have I been missing out on?_

_"Your skin feels... good," I mumble into your neck._

_I pull back and look at you searchingly. "So... this is vanilla sex? My memories are a bit hazy, but is that what we did last night? It's surprisingly..." I stop to think and caress your cheek._

_"... it's just... surprising. Do *not* tell anyone I said that..." I warn, and return to kissing your neck. "Reputation, darling..."_

 

 

"Don't worry, Boss," I manage to grin - reassure Jim, always first priority...

"I don't _quite_ recall everything we did last night... and who cares... this is now, and here, and there's no one for miles around... let's go crazy. Let's just do what our bodies tell us and not let our minds interfere. We're in the woods... back to nature and stuff... let yourself _feel_...

So my skin feels good? _Touch_ it, really touch it... like I'm touching you... fingers feeling, exploring, memorizing..." My lips kiss your jaw, your cheek, your ear, while I'm rambling some shit I'd never thought I'd think up, but which seems genuine, so I just let it flow... Let's get Jim Moriarty in touch with his _feelings_... or at least his sensations.

 

 

_"I'm touching it, "I mumble into the soft spot behind your ear. "S'nice." My fingers trail along your chest, and I nibble on your earlobe._

_My head pops up and I look at you. "Darling... are you trying to show me how to be... human?" I ask in surprise, then smile at you indulgently. "You have your work cut out for you, my dear... it would take more than one night in the woods to bring me back into the fold. I sold my soul a long time ago..."_

_I caress your face as I stare off for a moment. Then I give myself a little shake. "But apparently everyone needs a break sometime... Very well, Sebastian! We've already thrown caution to the wind with whatever unspeakable shenanigans we got up to yesterday. Whatever happens here, you don't need to worry about me taking you to task. I'm up for going crazy in the deep woods if you are..." I hold your face in my hands, gazing down at you for a moment before I lean in to kiss you._


	4. All This Fresh Air

I don't know what's going on, what's happening to my sadistic psychopath, but fuck, I'll take it. You want to experiment with being human? You got it. Let's see if we can tease out some of that humanity from under the many layers of bulletproof armour. And if this is all a nasty trick - I'll be upset; I've been upset before. I'll live. I'd rather throw myself at you and be laughed at than retreat and always keep wondering if it could have been real.

I pull you close, roll you onto your back, lean over you - you let me - I kiss your neck, sucking it a little, not enough to leave marks, but enough to make you feel good... I get to your ear, kiss it, lick it, gently bite your earlobe, then make my way back down your neck again, reaching your chest... your beautiful ivory chest, nearly bare of hair like a young boy's... I lick, kiss, suck gently, get to your nipple, nip it softly, just grazing my teeth around it.

 

 

_I run my fingers through your hair as you kiss my neck._

_Was this really wise, Jim?!_

_I mean it *feels* good... unbelievably good... but there are more important things to consider! Is taking a Tiger off the leash and letting him run amok in the deep woods *really* the best idea? He'll be impossible to keep off the furniture when we get home..._

_I breathe in sharply as I feel your teeth on my nipple._

_Slightly savage Tiger. Delicious..._

_Well, I can bring an unruly Tiger to heel... I've done it often enough._

_I move my hands down your back and fondle your arse._

_"*God*, you're hot... "_

 

 

"You're one to talk..." I murmur. "You're so fucking incredibly hot... your skin is pristine, so smooth... " I make my way to the other nipple, give it the same treatment, just to hear that delightful gasp again, kiss my way down your body - trying to memorize every detail, how it feels under my lips, the little hairs on your belly, the dip of your navel, your hip bone, your firm arse in my hands... I leave your cock alone for now, just gently let my hair _just_ touch it on my way past to your thighs, your rock-hard thighs, so taut and muscular... move your legs slightly apart and kiss, suck, and gently bite my way up the sensitive inner thigh...

 

 

_I exhale slowly as you're biting up my thigh. "*Tease*..." I murmur. "*You're* teasing *me*, Sebastian? The strangest things happen in the deep woods..."_

_You're getting so close to the top... Oh *god*. I throw my head back, and a breathy, whiny sound escapes my lips._

_I'm pretty sure I've never made that sound in my *life*, but I don't have the inclination to stress about it, because your tongue is pressed against my inner thigh, and *fuck me* that feels... *fuuuuuck*..._

 

 

Mmmm? How do you like being on the receiving end, my love?

 

.

 

..

 

...

 

Don't.

Don't think that word.

Don't you _ever_ think that word.

If you think it, you may say it out loud. And it will mean the end of you. He'll _kill_ you. If you're lucky.

Fortunately you're too preoccupied to take my gasp as anything else than one of pleasure, and I redouble my efforts, moving to your other thigh, making my way up, kissing, sucking a _bit_ harder... it's not like anyone will see your thighs... using my teeth round the edges... how do you deal with just a little bit of pain, my... Jim?

 

 

_"Jesus Christ, Sebastian..." I gasp. I look down to see you grinning up at me._

_Are you trying to *kill* me? I'm not used to all this focused attention, all this *sensation*, except in very specific areas of my body. God, I feel like it's going to melt my brain, melt my... everything..._

_"Oh *god*," I moan as I feel your teeth bite harder._

 

 

Well, you seem to like this. I bite a little bit harder... and a little bit harder next to that... and a _little_ bit harder further up... And then I've reached your balls and I'm not biting those. But I'm not quite ready with you yet either... I move back up over your chest and your neck, find your mouth, kiss you deeply.

 

 

_It's becoming like a *default* position, us kissing like this..._

_Who knew I was missing out on this slow, deep kissing thing; it always seemed too silly and wet to bother with._

_The way you do it is definitely *wet*, but there is nothing silly about it._

_We're both breathing hard as we kiss, and my hands are pressed against your face._

_*God*... I don't know what to do next, and I don't even care. For once, I'm not thinking ahead to which action I should take to create outcome A, B, or C._

_You've taken over and you're showing me an entirely new way to fuck. I don't see how I'd possibly allow myself to do this when we get back home... but maybe I could break it down and incorporate it into what we do - just in small bits. If it has the same effect on you that it's having on me... I'm going to melt your brain when I take you under the stars..._

 

 

I move up, gently nudge you onto your front, lean over you, start kissing, sucking, nibbling the back of your neck, making my way down over your spine until I get to that magnificent arse. I kiss, suck, bite my way around your beautiful buttocks, before making my way down to the backs of your thighs... down one side, up the other...

 

 

_I'm struggling to keep my breathing steady... struggling to keep from making noises... with each teasing touch of your lips, your teeth, your tongue._

_*Jesus*… no one has ever touched me like this! I should put a stop to it... *immediately*._

_(Do you want to?)_

_That's really *not* the point..._

_(What *is* the point?)_

_I *don't know*!! I can't think with Sebastian's teeth sinking into the spot where my thigh meets my arse-_

_*FuckFuckHolyFuck*..._

_*Now* can I put a stop to this??_

_(DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE...)_

 

 

I adore this body, and adore the chance to explore it at ease. I move slowly over you, let my cock just gently rest between your cheeks; sniff your hair, smelling so lovely... kiss your neck, move off you, turn you on your side again, resume kissing. I’ll never get enough of this. It feels like I’m both catching up and building up a reserve.

And you’re an amazing kisser... have you done this before? It didn’t sound like it... but you feel so passionate, so delicate in your movements, so attentive to what’s happening...

I let out a little moan, lost in the sensation.

 

 

_This kissing is so... mmm. I vaguely remember doing a lot of it yesterday. I definitely enjoyed it this morning. But I thought that would be it. I guess it will stop when we return home._

_No - it *will* stop when we return home._

_I’ve never kissed like this before. You mustn’t know that._

_*I really like it*. You mustn’t know that either._

_(Oh, like he can’t tell you’re into it? *Eejit*.)_

_I hear you moan, feel your tongue requesting entry past my lips. Granted._

_Oh, fuck - *granted*..._

_And don’t *stop*..._

_My hands slowly move along your back and neck, and then through your hair._

_I press my hips up firmly against yours and moan softly as I feel your cock sliding against mine._

 

 

You are so into the kissing - why did you never do this before? You either kiss proprietorially, ferociously, or not at all. And god forbids you let yourself _be_ kissed. Now you can't seem to get enough.

Show me what it's like, you said... What what is like? Normal sex? Sex I've had with others? Like that could _ever_ hold a candle to what I've experienced with you...

What do you want? What should I make you feel, to make you possibly consider a repetition?

God, no pressure there, Seb...

Should I ask? Would that make you slip back into cold Jim mode? Or would it be an opening for you to explore further?

Maybe...

"What would you like me to do, Jim? What would you like to feel?"

... _my love_...

 

 

_Can't you just read my mind, Tiger?? If I have to put it into *words*, the spell is broken..._

_"Sebastian, Jesus..." I mutter in annoyance. "You need me to spell it out? I would think with your coloured history of tomcatting your way through the Commonwealth, you would know what someone was looking for..."_

 

 

... right.

Sure.

But you're not _someone_.

Anyone else - I made sure they had a good time, but I wasn't _invested_. I didn't have to be the best they'd ever had.

I wasn't - in love.

But it's clear - no breaking the spell. Just keep going and try the very best you can, Moran...

It stings though. We were close - it was sweet, soft, passionate - intimate -

and I broke it. I shouldn't have spoken. Can I get it back?

Take the initiative, Tiger...

I move you onto your back, kiss you passionately like we were kissing before, gently rubbing my cock against yours.

 

 

_There's my clever Tiger..._

_Should I have told you - *no*. You figured it out just fine._

_Relief floods me and I sigh. You lift your head to look at me, and I give you a wry smile. Life is feeling completely off-kilter and absurd..._

_Yet I feel... Relaxed. Tingly. *Warm*._

_You smile back at me, and … I realize we're staring into each other’s eyes. It appears we've shared some kind of... *moment*._

_I take your face in my hands and slowly bring it back to my lips._

 

 

Your eyes look so different... it’s not just the light filtering through the tent. It’s like they’ve lost some of the steel; it’s still there, of course, but there’s a glimpse, again, of something... someone underneath.

And that’s the person I’m going to make love with... have you ever made love, James Moriarty? Of course not... but you seem to like it, judging from the way you pull me close for another kiss.

I kiss you sweetly, deeply, lovingly. If this is your first time properly kissing then I should make it count. My tongue slow-dances with yours, my teeth gently nibble your lower lip; I lick it softly, then get back to deeper kisses. Let myself wander for a bit to jaw and neck, ear... to find my way back to softly panting mouth.

 

 

_Oh god, what am I doing?_

_I'm rolling around in a tent... in a Scottish forest... snogging an employee._

_(Not just any employee...)_

_OK, my trusted bodyguard - even worse!_

_I work with him every day!_

_(Yes, and sleep in the same bed... What does that sound like to you?)_

_It doesn't *sound* like anything, it's convenient. He protects me while I sleep._

_(...)_

_Hello?!_

_(Sorry, Sebastian was just doing something with his tongue, and I... mmph.)_

_Something with his tongue...?_

_Oh..._

_*God*..._

_I moan into your mouth. My hands grip your arse. My cock grinds against yours._

_"God, Tiger..." I groan. "Don't make me wait any longer..."_

_I don't even know what to ask for... I don't know what I *want*..._

_Just give me more of this... please..._

_(!!!)_

 

 

Mmmm... what do you want, my love?

( _Stop it!!!_ )

Shall I do for you what you did for me last night? I think I would like that very much... seeing your face as you are losing yourself in pleasure... would that happen? Why not? You’re already so melted...

I grab for my wash bag and take out the lube, put some around my entrance, some on your cock, slowly lean myself on top of you... slowly Seb... keep breathing... relax...

 

 

_I feel you positioning yourself over me -_

_Yes, *good*…_

_Starting to slide down on my cock -_

_*very good*…_

_Easing yourself down slowly -_

_*so good*_

_Impatient, frustrated, I grip your hips and push up into you._

_And we both groan loudly and go still._

_You leaning down over me._

_Me staring up at you._

_Your hands grasp my shoulders._

_My fingers tighten on your hips._

_"Ride me, Tiger..." I whisper._

 

 

Ouch... yes alright Jim, you’re still you, take what you want, don’t worry about me... it’s not like you’re small, exactly...

Breathe, Sebastian, breathe... relax...

fuck... god this feels good... when you’re through the worst stretch...

Ride you... I can do that...

Just... a second to catch my breath...

Oh... no your fingers are pushing me up... god... you impatient little fucker...

I move up, grit my teeth, move down again... it’s getting easier...

 

 

_Oh. I told you to do something and then I tried to take over - of course._

_Well - I have every right to do what I want!_

_Only - then it'll just be what it always is, and I wanted to see -_

_something different._

_It would provide a valuable clue about last night, without having to ask. I believe you will show me what happened without us having to have a conversation... and if I don't like it, there need to be no altercation about it. It'll just be swept under the rug._

_(And if you secretly like it, Jim?)_

_*Shut. Up*._

_I look up at you, and I loosen my grasp on your hips. I sigh._

_"I *suppose* I shouldn't ask you to do something... and then do it myself?" My lips quirk._

 

 

"If you want something done well..." I grin wryly.

"It's fine - I like it when you indicate what rhythm you like. It's just that - well, plunging yourself into me like that... it takes a moment to... take it in, as it were."

I'm getting more comfortable in the movement now, slide up, move down, look at your face, move down, see what happens if I kiss you like this...

 

 

_Hmm, you never said anything before..._

_(Like you would have listened, Jim?)_

_Didn't I say something about shutting up?_

_All thoughts and internal arguments are driven from my head when I see you moving closer, looking at me searchingly, asking me questions with your lips..._

_I don't know what you're asking, Tiger..._

_(Yes. You do...)_

_I sigh against your mouth. You must know I can't give you an answer._

_But maybe - there's the slightest chance - I wish I could._

 

 

That sigh - what does that sigh mean? Is it a 'you are being tedious, get on with it' sigh? An 'oh god this is great' sigh? A... 'your closeness is affecting me' sigh? If only I could read you the way you read me...

Your face gives nothing away. It's still softer than usual during sex, but there's no opening, no view behind the mask - if it is a mask.

Was I just seeing things last night? I was so drunk... was I just imagining what I wanted to see? Beer goggles?

My heart sinks at the thought, but... it must be... just a loved-up Tiger getting his hopes up. Falling in love, and seeing a human being through whisky-eyes where there is only an unfeeling android.

My eyes start prickling and I bend to kiss you. It feels so real... Just enjoy this, Sebastian, soak it up, keep it in your heart for long lonely nights... It's not like you'll ever have a chance to fall in love with anyone else. You're his until death. So - it doesn't really matter. Just take the scraps you are given, and relish the joy they give you.

Fucking love. It's the bane of my life...

 

 

_It feels like you keep trying to get somewhere and then shutting down._

_(Maybe because you're doing the same?)_

_But what I want to taste - I can't have it if you're shutting down!_

_But if I open up... the fallout will be so dangerous. To both of us..._

_It's downright precarious what we're doing - do you even realize?_

_Can I open up just a crack?_

_But - how?? It's fucking daunting without alcohol..._

_"So, tonight - under the stars?" I ask you. "What do you want me to do to you?"_

_I observe your face in confusion. No - not quite right._

_"Or - with you?" I guess. Your face lights up._

_Christ... Why is my face hot?_

_Am I -_

_*No*._

_*James. Moriarty. Does. Not. Blush*._

_It must be the tent, the airflow... I'm overheating, *clearly*._

_I panic, pull you down and kiss you feverishly._

 

 

Is that you making an _effort?_ What the FUCK is happening here? Is this some kind of enchanted forest? Have we fallen through a faerie portal? And are you - _blushing!?_ What the _fuck?!?_

You're _blushing_. You can't fake a _blush_ , can you? And why would you? You're blushing when asking me what I want to do tonight under the stars?! Is there - are you -

_Impossible._

Yeah you keep saying that, but - how can you explain someone blushing when he's talking about fucking you under the stars if not by... him having... at least _certain_ feelings?

What the fuck is happening? Did I ask that already?

Also, I'm supposed to be riding you. Whilst having my brain short-circuit over seeing my - whatever you are - blush over sex under the stars - all _whilst we are having sex_. Jesus Christ.

Oh _and_ I'm supposed to be thinking of an answer.

I move slowly up and down, hoping to distract you, but you're looking at me with determination - you will have your reply.

Oh god - what - I don't do this - I don't say what happens, you do - it's how we work - fuck, Jim!

"We'll see that when we get to that... see how we feel..." I cop out. I honestly can't think with my brain trying to parse the things it's seen and heard and my arse filled with your cock...

 

 

_I laugh shortly. Well, this is what happens when you try to be … whatever the fuck that was._

_(Or maybe the poor thing is in a headspin because of how you normally treat him?)_

_*Poor thing*??_

_"Let's just see how we feel, then..." I mutter sarcastically. "Brilliant."_

 

 

Well - _fuck_ you, James Moriarty. You've been playing with me since you first acquired me - and I accepted all that, because - well. Things. It fit with what I felt.

But you don't get to _fucking_ play with my feelings like this and then get to be all sarcastic.

I feel a growl low in my throat. I bend down, bite your neck, not drawing blood, but definitely causing pain. Then I sit up, push myself up your cock, getting down again, moving fast and deliberate. Fuck. You. Jim. Moriarty.

I look down at your face, torn between sarcasm and the sensations from your cock, and I place my hand on your throat. Not pressing, just resting.

Don't you _ever_ forget that you are only alive because I _let_ you be, James. Fucking. Moriarty.

 

 

_Hmm. Someone's surly..._

_Well, feeling mildly threatened is infinitely preferable to feeling stung and exposed (and *vulnerable* - don't forget vulnerable!)…_

_oh for fuck's sake, do you ever shut up??_

_I grin as you fuck me aggressively, your hand on my throat. "Oh, don't be that way, Tiger..." I pout. "I liked what you were doing, if that wasn't clear... It was a simple question, I didn't think it would be so difficult to answer..."_

_I look at you, really look at you - hurt and angry, because I don't know what I'm fucking doing._

_I put my hand on your chest._

_"I think all this fresh air is really disorienting, because nothing is making sense to me. It really was lovely, Tiger. I guess I cocked it up by being me?" I say wistfully and move my hand to your cheek. "I apologize, I really don't know how these things work... I won't ask you to do anything else if it's - upsetting?" My hand drops to my side._

 

 

Oh -

oh for _fuck_ 's sake -

Can you _stop_ changing who you are every _five fucking minutes!?_

And -

Could you -

Not be so...

 _human_ -

 

I can't not respond to this - I don't know what you're doing, but I can't just ignore you being sweet and understanding and - _apologizing?!_ You've never apologized to me for anything, ever.

Oh fuck... My poor cock has given up, he's not even that interested any more, it's all getting too much.

But you - you're looking at me - lost? rueful? And it's pulling at my heart, and I can't ignore this. I have to take it at face value, no matter how often I've been kicked in the face before.

I lean down, lightly touch my lips to yours. "You didn't cock it up, Jim. It was just - unexpected. Not upsetting. I've - you've never given me much of a say in what happens. And then when you suddenly _do_ \- you might not want to expect the most erudite well-balanced response from the guy who's never had to give his opinion before, _and_ , I'd like to remind you, who has your cock up his arse..."

 

 

_I burst out laughing. “Well, when you put it that way...” I feel tears in the corners of my eyes, and I’m just going to assume you can’t see them. Like the blushing. Didn’t happen._

_“It’s fucking last night!” I say abruptly. “Something happened... and it *scrambled* things. Things don’t feel *quite* the same, and it’s fucking disorienting. Like the ground is shifting under my feet. I *don’t like it*,” I say darkly. “But then...” I trail off. “I don’t know!!”_

_I cover my eyes with my hand. “I knew going camping was a bad idea! Terrible things happen in the woods, Sebbie...”_

 

 

You're - your _eyes_ \- are shining -

_Tears!?!_

Impossible. Jim Moriarty doesn't do tears. Never. Not even when he's shot and bleeding and must be in agony. Only when he's playing a role - so - _are_ you playing? _Is_ this a cruel setup? But _why_?

_Do you need to ask that, Sebastian? Have you ever known him not to do something just for the sake of cruelty?_

Is that really... oh come on, why would he?! And - last night - that - if that was part of the role - you'd have to admire him to do it _so well_ when so plastered - normally he'd only pretend to drink a lot when playing a character...

Face value. That's all I can do. If you want to laugh at how gullible I am - well, so be it.

So, then... Jim Moriarty is blushing and crying and apologizing and asking how I want to have sex. Really, I should get you drunk more often.

I move my head down so I'm not looking you in the face and you don't have to feel embarrassed at me possibly seeing your tears.

"You're the most terrible thing in these woods, Jim... Just relax. It's only me. Only me here. You can relax with me, you know that. I'm fully loyal - I'm yours. It's almost like being alone, being with a good bodyguard.

You're fine. You're still you. You're just hungover, which makes your brain feel weird. Just relax and enjoy the fuck..."

 

 

_I mull over what you said. I feel the hint of something trickle through - sad? God, it's been so long since I've had feelings, I barely know how to differentiate. But - you don't forget sad, do you._

_I wince._

_"I'm the most terrible thing in the woods? Well, I'm happening. And I really was enjoying what you were doing, Tiger - I'd *like* to continue..." I say in a rush. There, I didn't ask - I just said what I wanted since you seem more comfortable with that. I don't know if it's too late. I … hope it's not too late?_

_*God*, this is so weird..._

 

 

"Yes, let's do that... it feels so good... you feel so good, Jim... you always do. Your cock is just _perfect_."

I start moving again, positioning myself so that you hit the right spot, and I groan, digging my fingers into your shoulders.

My own brain is a bit fuzzy with the hangover, and I'm struggling to get my head round everything that's been happening, so I decide to just empty my head and focus on the sex... Sex with a sweet, blushing, apologizing, _crying_ Jim Moriarty is not something I thought I'd ever get, so let's make the most of it.

 

 

_"Mmm... you feel good, too," I mumble._

_Is this what I'm supposed to do? Respond?_

_Maybe I need to worry less about 'supposed to' and just... enjoy?_

_My hands slowly return to your hips, and then move around to your bottom._

_God, you have the most amazing arse... I grasp it, feel the muscles flexing as you move against me._

_"Fuck..." I breathe. "You really do, Tiger.."_

 

 

"I'd hope so... you always make it clear nothing but the best is good enough for you... I'd hate to think I would fall short of that."

I'm enjoying your fingers on my arse, grasping it so eagerly. It's yours, Jim... just like the rest of me.

I take my cue from your fingers tightening and your breath gasping to increase my efforts, moving faster, enjoying the look on your face. There's nothing sexier in the world than Jim Moriarty getting lost in ecstasy...

 

 

_When have you ever fallen short in anything?" I ask in disbelief. "You *are* the best at everything..."_

_I reach up just as you're leaning down and once again we start to kiss like there's no tomorrow._

_I'm thrusting up into you as you're moving against me, and the tent fills with gasping and moaning._

 

 

Yes... that's it... moan for me, my l... Jim... feel how great I make you feel...

Also, a hand on my cock would be nice...?

But I'm not going to ruin this, not now... let you enjoy this, we'll see about my cock after...

 

 

_There's a look of frustration on your face. What could you possibly be frustrated about when this feels so fucking good?_

_Oh._

_There was *something* from last night about not leaving you unsatisfied..._

_My hand slowly moves to your cock, I begin to stroke, and I watch your face. Surprise. Relief. Pleasure._

_All right - let's satisfy you, Tiger..._

 

 

Oh god - can you actually read my thoughts? Because that would be a bit scary, even for you...

I groan as your hand moves on my cock. Oh god Jim, you're fucking _perfect_ \- you made me pleasure myself while you watched just after we got together, so that you knew how I liked it - because you are so fucking fond of your _information_ , aren't you... but the result is that you know how I like to be touched as well as I know it myself, and you can get me off quicker than I can... because it feels _so much better_ when you do it... and it's so hot to feel you fill me up, see your face assessing me, looking satisfied, then remembering that you're being ridden by me and that that feels very good...

I move faster now, I have to get you there before you get me too far, and oh god this is so fucking hot...

I hope this is making you more amenable regarding the whole camping experience - you don't need a five-star hotel to have a good orgasm...

 

 

_Ok - this is actually even hotter..._

_So this is sex when one person isn't dominating or overpowering the other, and it's... reciprocal?_

_And I thought it sounded so pointless and stupid..._

_There is nothing pointless or stupid about this - looking up at your face in ecstasy... your cock thrusting into my hand..._

_your muscular body writhing against mine, riding my cock..._

_I drive myself up into you and you moan loudly, squeeze around my cock... this makes me moan loudly in turn, and now you're gazing at me._

_Reciprocal... the word is bouncing around my skull like a pinball machine, lighting up the neurons in my brain._

_"Kiss me," I murmur feverishly._

 

 

 _No_ problem, boss... I lean down and kiss you like I mean it... And I do... and it's so fucking hot... and I'm moving faster and you're moaning louder and we're going to have one hell of an orgasm... oh god I hope it's going to be so good for you, so good that you will want to do this all the time... whatever _this_ is... It's not like I've never ridden you before, but - we both know there is _something_ going on, something driving us closer, closer than we've ever been, here in the middle of a forest in Scotland... and I don't think it's just what I want to believe...

I'm driving you to your orgasm like only I can, because only I _can_ , dammit, you said so yourself yesterday... I am fucking special to you... Whether you want me to be or not...

 

 

_I'm moaning into your mouth, getting so worked up, fuck, this feels almost like having sex for the first time - *NO*, we are not going there, stop thinking *now*. Maybe I'll just consider *this* to be the first time - fecking timeline be damned._

_Feeling strangely relieved, I sigh against your lips and bring a hand to the back of your head. I'm thrusting up into you as you're moving hard and fast against me, and I just want to let go and come deep inside you._

_"Oh fuck, Tiger…" I gasp. "I'm so close..."_

 

 

"Come for me," _my love_ "Jim... come inside me, let me feel you, you feel so good... so fucking good..."

And you're writhing and bucking underneath me, and _yes_ , you're getting there, oh god _Jim_...

 

 

_"Oh god, Tiger... oh fuck.." I groan, and then it feels like we just enter into some zone where we're one body and we know exactly what to do and I'm writhing and you're writhing, and I moan loudly and you groan like you're dying, and then I'm shivering and you're shivering, and I'm shuddering and coming so hard in you, and you're shaking and coming in spurts against my chest, and we're both breathing so hard... you're holding yourself up but you rest your head against my shoulder. My arms have circled your back before I know what I'm doing._

 

 

Oh god oh god oh _god_... Fuck, Jim, you're incomparable, there's nothing, no one, ever, _ever_ made me feel anything _close_ to this... you're sex incarnate, you're death, pain, passion, all in one devilishly cute package, and you're making me come like no one has ever made me come before... like so many times before...

Can _anyone_ blame me for falling like a ton of bricks for you? How could anyone who spends a lot of time in your vicinity fail to fall under your spell? You're so incredibly intriguing, vicious, mercurial, fascinating... and so _fucking hot_...

I'm seeing stars, my body feels like it's not quite under my control, as every cell is vibrating with the power of orgasm, an explosive release like only you could bring...

I collapse, just barely able to keep myself from fully falling on top of you and squashing you, holding myself up on trembling arms, leaning my head on your shoulder. And you wrap your arms around me - well that is new too...

And I hardly dare move, experiencing this unprecedented closeness, so aware of your arms, of your breath on my shoulder, of my chest touching yours - I'm panting, trying to get back control of my limbs and brain, and not making a great job of it.

 

 

_I'm breathing unevenly, clinging to you..._

_Why am I clinging exactly? My brow furrows._

_Something about that feeling of *the first time*... which is ridiculous. I've lost track of the number of times we've fucked in the last six months._

_But this time is different. And I know I won't be allowed to continue when we get back home, but I'm feeling released from rules this weekend and it was obviously fucking needed._

_I feel you lifting yourself off my cock and off my body, and I make a distressed sound before I can stop myself - it was the tiniest little sound. Barely anything for you to hear. I fake a cough hastily._

_You raise your head slowly and fearfully I look at you._

 

 

The tiniest whine escapes you when I slide off you - I know Jim, I feel empty too - I wish we could melt together... it feels wrong to be separated. You're still clinging to me, and when I look up, I see your eyes display - _fear!?_ That's it, I'm definitely seeing things. Can hangovers make you hallucinate? I must be misinterpreting. You aren't afraid of anything. Only the occasional nightmare, but that is at night, when you're asleep and not in charge of your consciousness, and besides, we don't mention those.

So we won't mention this.

It's warm in the tent, but you get cold much easier than I do. I grab the sleeping bag on your left with my fingers and toes and slowly sink to your right, so you're safely wrapped in between sleeping bag and Tiger. You're still clinging to me. I move my arm underneath myself to avoid crushing yours.

Since all rules and habits seem to have flown out the tent flap, I hold you close, softly press my lips to yours.

 

 

_Well. That happened... And there’s no taking it back, no do-overs._

_I could be cruel to you, I could make it into a huge joke... that would be my M.O. ..._

_But I feel shaken, and in need of safety and comfort..._

_And cruelty is cold and full of hard edges. And you and this bag are warm, and... cosy. You’re the antithesis. The antidote. The anti-venom to my venom._

_Well, fuck..._

_*Now* what?_

_“So that’s vanilla sex?” I ask in a lazy purring voice._

_Your eyes snap open and you look at me cautiously... afraid._

_“Kinky...” I say, widening my eyes comically._

_You seem unsure what to do or say._

_“Relax, Sebastian - no rules and no repercussions tonight, I did say. It was surprisingly stimulating and satisfying... Let’s see what I’m inspired to do later.”_

_I move my hand along your chest. “Did you like it?” I demand, my fingers grasping your shoulder._

 

 

For one moment, one torturously long moment, I think that this is it, that you are going to take the piss, laugh at me, shatter the heart that I'm barely managing to hold together with peeling duck tape and rusty paperclips. And I brace myself. It's what I expected - what I deserve. I had promised myself never to fall in love again, after... last time. And I broke that promise, so I'll suffer for it. It makes sense. It's warranted.

 

And then you look - different - tell me to relax. No repercussions. No punishment for feeling, is that it? But you've retreated again - and my heart feels achingly empty. It longs for that look of fear in your eyes - looking at me to protect you. Misses your hands clinging to me like I was the branch holding you up above the abyss.

"Yes... " I say, because you want an answer, "yes, I liked it."

 

I have to move, or you'll see... something. I don't know. I have to get out of here.

 

"I have to take a piss," I say curtly, nearly pulling your arms off me, but you let go. I rush out of the tent, walk into the woods, go behind some bushes. Lean my head against a tree, breathe in and out tensely, feel tears prickling in my eyes even though I told them _not to_ , try to calm my thoughts, my racing heart. I need a fag, but I don't have any on me, and I need to calm down _before_ I go back to camp. I punch the tree, but I need a lot more than that to calm down.

Desperate, I pace around, fall to the ground to do some vigorous press-ups to burn up some of the tension, bash another tree.

 

 

_Why did you sound like *that*??_

_You enjoyed it! And things felt *cosy* and you were *comforting* and... you need to get your arse back here, Sebastian!!_

_..._

_Sebastian?_

_I wait for one full second, grab the sleeping bag, wrap it around myself and push my way out of the tent._

_“What are you doing?” I demand. “Working out? Punching trees? We were *talking*!! Get back in here!” I stare at you, feeling injured and indignant._

 

 

Oh for fuck's sake Jim, don't follow me... I'm trying to _calm down_ and you're _not_ helping...

On the other hand, there are cigarettes there...

I rub my hand past my eyes to get rid of any moisture, stalk back, manage not to push you aside in my haste to get to my trousers, take out my fags and light one.

My hand trembles?! My hand _never_ trembles. I'm a fucking sniper. Stop it hand.

I drag in the blessed smoke, feel it fill my lungs and calm my nerves.

 

 

_I watch this activity, bundled in a sleeping bag, thoroughly perplexed._

_“Aren’t people supposed to get all cuddly after sex? Isn’t there more?”_

_I stare at your cigarette. “And don’t I get a drag?”_

 

 

Oh fuck I'm fucking it up, aren't I? I'm so confused and worked up and I can't even do what I want to do more than anything - cuddle you -

"Come here," I say, opening my arms for you to come sit on my lap. You sit down, looking at me puzzled. I wrap my arm around you and hand you the cigarette.

 

 

_Oh *shit*... this feels *really good*..._

_I snatch the cigarette from you and hold it to my lips, take a drag._

_I slide it back in between your lips._

_I look at you and wait. I may have relaxed my rules but I don’t think I can just do *anything* I want..._

_But I’d like to kiss you oh my *god* what the fuck is wrong with me??_

_Desperately I look everywhere but you. But there’s really nothing to look at except the big blonde gorgeous ex-soldier smoking, with an arm around you. Looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. Stop looking at me, Seb..._

_*Stop looking at me*._

_Oh god..._

_I can’t just explode like I normally would; I don’t want you to leave again..._

_Why won’t you kiss me?_

_I press my lips against yours and kiss you. You look shocked._

_I clear my throat. “That’s what people do, right? I’m just trying to get the full experience of afterglow. I think I have it.”_

_Against my will, I find myself looking up into your eyes. I am so fucked..._

 

 

You want afterglow... and I’m fucking up your experience of vanilla sex.

Get yourself together soldier. Be sweet and tender. You remember how to do that, right? Plenty of people have experienced sweet Moran afterglow after amazing Moran sex.

Plenty of people who weren’t my boss. And that I wasn’t in love with.

I’ll just have to do my best...

I stroke the bits of your back that aren’t covered in sleeping bag, kiss you as sweetly and softly as I dare without losing myself in it. How do you cope with kissing the person you’re in love with when you’re not allowed to let them know?! I’ve never had to deal with this... never been in love...

_Except the once..._

No. We don’t think about that. Fuck’s sake, don’t go thinking of _that_ or you’ll completely break into pieces.

I’ve never been in love and chose the worst person in the world and now he wants me to be sweet and presumably not break down and god damn it, this is confusing for _him_ too, stop only thinking about yourself, Moran.

 

 

_The kiss brings a surge of warmth and sweetness and sunshine and ..._

_“Oh my god... What the fuck are we doing?” I ask, panicking. “Is this a camping thing? A vanilla sex thing? The fumes from Scottish wildcat droppings making us go mad? What is this?”_

_I look around desperately trying to not look at you. But you’re panicking too, and I *don’t want you to leave again*. I grab your shoulders, hold on like I’m drowning. “Tiger? What’s happening?” I ask in a small voice._

 

 

Don’t freak out! Don’t you fucking dare freak out! I’m the one who’s freaking out!!! We can’t both freak out or they will only find our bodies!

“I don’t know...” I manage to squeeze out in an equally small voice. “You wanted afterglow...”

 

 

_I look at you, aghast. “*This* is afterglow?! It always sounded so *fluffy* and *pleasant*... like being wrapped in a warm blanket! This feels like having your brain turned inside out... and your insides being rearranged with a machete! Is this what it‘s supposed to feel like?? Oh, *god*!” I cling to you tighter._

_“It’s the hormones,” I tell myself in a careful soothing voice, and then I look at you. “It’s *hormones*,” I say to you loudly, as if you didn’t hear me. “There’s absolutely nothing to panic about. This is a chemical process and we’re not used to these types of chemicals being dumped into our systems. There’s nothing to panic about, Sebastian!” I shout, then I pat your shoulder. “Right? It’s fine. We’ll just wait for them to subside... Like getting drunk!” I say, excitedly. “We’re just drunk with chemicals, and we’ll have a bit of a hangover, and then we’ll be fine. Right, Tiger?” I look at you hopefully._

 

 

“What the _fuck_ are you playing at, Jim?!” I hear someone shout.

Surely that wasn’t me. I would never show my hand so clearly.

“I can’t deal with this! I can deal with your _fucking_ moods, your games, your cruelty, your fucking _impossible_ demands; I take them all in stride! But stop fucking _toying_ with me like a cat that’s got a mouse!

I’m _trying_ to give you what you want, right?! I’m bending over backwards, all the fucking time, to be what _you_ want when _you_ need it, and you don’t give a _fuck_ about how that feels for me, which is _fine_ right, because you’re a psychopath and that’s expected, but I’m fucking not, alright?! I do have _feelings_ sometimes and I _know_ that’s not alright, and I _know_ they’re my problem to deal with, but then when I _try_ , just take five fucking minutes to myself, I’m being summoned back to deal with _your_ feelings, because you can’t, because oooh, psychopath! Well make up your fucking mind Jim! Either you are an unfeeling robot or you’re a fucking human who _does_ have feelings but stop switching between the two because it’s fucking killing me!!!”

 

I’ve got up, I’m holding the cigarette in my hand, which is shaking _again_ and the ash is falling on the ground, and I feel my head has gone red and tears are threatening to come out, and I’m shouting, properly shouting at you, and this is it, isn’t it, this is when you finally kill me...

 

 

_I stare at you in shock. What?..._

_*What*??_

_I stand up slowly._

_You’ve yelled before, you’re a bit of a hothead - but not Iike *this*..._

_“You *wanted* this!!” I shout, and shove you. “You *wanted* me, *that’s* what all this strangeness has been since last night - well, you can’t pick and choose what model of psychopath you get! You can’t say, ‘Ooh, I want this one, but make him nicer and more together emotionally and less frustrating to deal with! This is who I am! And I was *trying*, I really was, if you couldn’t bother to see - I was *trying* to be human and I have no idea how, and ... thanks for throwing *that* in my face! I *was* unfeeling and everything was just fine, and then *something happened* and you won’t tell me, and now I’m *feeling* something and it’s making me crazy - well, crazier!!_

_So I’m sorry I’m not the perfect fucking date or whatever you wanted to go on a fun camping trip with, I’m a little busy trying to keep from falling apart! And now - everything feels upsetting because you’re *angry* at me and I don’t know what to do!” I’m crying angry tears, huddled in my sleeping bag. I wipe my eyes furiously._

_“Oh, fucking great...” I mutter. “I’m *such* an unfeeling robot, Sebastian... is this is what it looks like to not feel??”_

 

 

Oh -

Oh my -

Oh my god _Jim_...

_JIM?!?_

 

What on earth is happening?!

 

 _You_ are... feeling stuff?! And getting confused about it? And shouting at me about it...

well that's the only bit that makes sense...

And - did you - when you say 'you wanted me, that's what all this strangeness has been' - does that mean that you - _saw_ it? You saw I'd fallen in love with you?! With your - weird psychic insights?

 

And you were... _trying_... to be human...

... for me?

 

And now you're crying because of me?!

 

I fall to my knees; I can't stay upright any more - I don't know what's happening - this can't be - it's -

I burst into tears. Oh great. Some camping trip.

 

"Jim..." is all I can say. I wrap my arms around you and weep.

 

 

_Just when I think I couldn’t be more shocked..._

_You’re falling onto your knees. And crying._

_I look down at you, sniffling and clutching my sleeping bag._

_*What the fuck is happening??*_

_“Sebbie?” I say slowly._

_And suddenly I’m looking into your eyes. I have no idea how I got down on the ground but here I am - pulling you to me, and wrapping my sleeping bag around both of us._

_I feel you weeping into my shoulder, and I’m back to clinging to you like a life preserver._

_“So this is camping...” I murmur. “You didn’t mention this part, Tiger...”_

 

 

"Funny, this never happened in the army..." I grin through my sobs.

"I'm sorry Jim... I'm sorry I lost it... I'm sorry I shouted at you.

It's just - it's all been very confusing for me too. I don't normally have feelings like this. And I'm sorry I dragged you with me, somehow...

I think... last night, we both got so drunk, we... saw each other in a different way, for the first time? And we were both... affected by that? We... fell - or - I fell for you, anyway. And that's - really hard, because I don't. I don't fall for people. And you don't, either.

And - it's so infernally sweet that you recognized it and... tried to be human - for me..."

I'm crying again.

 

 

_Oh god, what to do you do with a crying Tiger?? (Think, Jim!!)_

_Umm... The same thing I’d want him to do to me? (Bingo...)_

_I tentatively put my hand out, and caress your hair._

_It feels... nice. I slowly rest my head against yours._

_“It wasn’t all that sweet,” I mutter. “There was something I wanted, I didn’t even know what but... I knew I wasn’t going to get it by being... my usual self. So I tried to leave my usual self out of the equation, and ... well, look how well that turned out...” I gesture to us sitting on the ground._

_“Fucking hell... I don’t *know* how else to be...” I murmur into your shoulder._

 

 

"You did last night... and you did great today... it was just... I was being difficult, as well... I didn't know - I thought you were playing with me - that you saw what had happened and wanted to punish me for it - or just thought it would be fun to laugh at me -

I'm sorry...

It's just... you don't usually...

I'm sorry. I'm a horrible person. I thought it more likely that you were - playing with me than that you were actually... struggling with feelings yourself..."

 

 

_“Oh and what gave you that impression? Could it be that you’ve been on the receiving end of a psychopath’s cruel whims for two years? *I’m* the horrible person here... And apparently I just have to be drunk or hungover to act like some version of a human...” I say wryly._

_I try to clear my head. What do I even want here? Should I tell you you’re better off without me, and that we should return to our normal dynamic? The thought leaves me cold..._

_so cold..._

_But *you* are *warm*..._

_I pull back and look at you searchingly._

_“I don’t know...” I start. “I don’t-“_

_I have no idea what to say. So I kiss you deeply._

 

 

You're looking at me like I carry the answers to your sudden crisis and I'm sorry Jim, I'm probably the worst person you could ask. I've had shitloads of vanilla sex, as you call it, but - I don't do feelings like this either...

And then you move towards me and kiss me, kiss me like you mean it... and tears start streaming down my face again at this gesture of - what? Of something neither of us could name, or grasp, or define, but something that you decided to _trust_ ; you, James Moriarty, sadistic criminal psychopath, most dangerous man in London - you're taking the risk of letting another person in. Me. And - I know I said I was the worst person you could ask, but I'm probably the best person for you to let yourself be vulnerable with - because I'm already yours, and you already trust me with your life - so why not with your- ( _heart_ ) feelings?

 


	5. Potential Wildlife

_“Oh Sebastian...” I sigh. “This is quite the mess! One night of drinking in Inverness plus one day of hungover camping in the Scottish deep woods equals... a criminal mastermind weeping in said woods wrapped in a sleeping bag with a sobbing sniper. That’s the most absurd equation I’ve ever heard of. I’m missing a variable, it doesn’t add up. Are you sure Scottish wildcat droppings don’t cause spontaneous eruptions of feelings in the previously unfeeling?” I’m trying desperately to keep myself calm, without making you think I’m unfeeling. I should reassure you, yes?_

_“I’m... looking forward to the stars, Tiger...”_

_I take your hand in mine and look up to see your reaction. Good?_

 

 

Oh _god_... You're - _trying_ -

You are _not_ going to cry again, soldier! Are you a crybaby Moran!? Do I need to call your mother to come wipe your tears?! Then _fucking_ man up, soldier!

I take a deep breath, look at you. Manage not to burst into tears. Well done.

I manage a smile, stroke your cheek - can I do this? I feel like I _am_ approaching a wildcat, trying to be ever so careful, afraid it'll startle and run away at any sudden movement -

But you let me, and it's so heartbreakingly sweet...

Good god Moran, you're acting like fucking Bella Swan. Get yourself together. You're a sniper, assassin, tough motherfucker - you do. not. cry.

"I think that the stories my nanny used to tell me are right - there are faerie portals in the woods, and if you go off the paths you risk falling through - and then you end up in a world that is entirely different from your own, where up is down and down is up, and magical creatures roam, and you can hear colours and taste sounds... I guess that's what must have happened. We've fallen into the faerie realm, and we're tripping our arses off."

 

 

_I look around the woods suspiciously. I come from a country rife with these tales, and as much I think them malarkey, there’s something about having grown up with them - they leave their mark._

_“That’s one possibility,” I say carefully. The fey folk that I absolutely *do not* believe in are known to be a tricksy bunch and if I’m in the deep woods, I’m going to be careful about what I say. And do. Fuck._

 

 

Really? I thought you would laugh, or at least grin and be relieved, but it looks like I've actually given you food for thought - Jim Moriarty?! Don't tell me you believe in _faeries_!?

Oh god - what was _in_ that wine?!

"This is good though - it means that we can go as crazy as we like, and it won't influence our actual life. Also, we should be alright getting _out_ of the faerie realm as long as we don't eat or drink anything they offer us - which again should not be a problem, as we brought our own food. Just don't eat anything offered to you by a naked blue lady."

 

 

_I'm listening to you talk about the faeries, and actually feeling relieved. Yes, if we blame a faerie portal, then it doesn't matter what's happened out here - we can go back to 'our actual life', as you said. Isn't that what I want?_

_Wait...is it?_

_I look at you sharply at the mention of a naked blue lady. "Always a good rule of thumb... if you know what's good for you..." I mutter darkly._

_"Hello? Talking about faeries?" you ask in disbelief._

_"Hello? Don't care! Don't appreciate the mention of naked *anyone else* in front of me..." I say, my voice vibrating with anger._

_I soften slightly when I see your face. "Don't look at me like that, darling - you know I get wild with jealousy. Even in hypothetical situations. How would *you* feel if I talked about a naked man offering me something to eat?"_

 

 

"In London?" I grin. "I'd assume he was off his tits, and warn you not to touch anything he offered you. Over here?... probably the same, and I'd worry about a party of E'd up ravers spoiling our cover."

You don't look convinced and I manage to keep the eye roll purely internal, with an external sweet smile for you.

OK, this is _fine_.

We're both severely hungover, extremely confused; I'm in love, and I don't know _what_ is going on with you but you feel threatened and scared one moment, indignant and furious the other, sweet and clingy the next, and insecure and tentative yet the next; we're in the middle of the Cairngorms and you're terrified of potential wildlife, and tomorrow morning we're going to have to sneak up on and shoot an as yet indeterminate number of dangerous men.

And whatever is happening with you has just exponentially increased your jealous streak so you now get pissed off if I mention nudity in fantasy creatures.

... whose idea was this, Sebastian?

"Do you want to get cleaned up and dressed? It's probably best not to sit around naked - I've lit mosquito repellent but we're near a stream and it's near sundown - we might not want to paint too attractive a picture for the midges."

 

 

_"All this talk about offering food naked, and you're not going to give me the pleasure? I'm *disappointed*, darling..." I give you a faux sad face which slowly slips off as I register what you said. "Midges?" I look around suspiciously. "Doesn't mosquito repellent work on them??"_

 

 

"Yes, it does - but some are more repelled than others. There is always the risk of a few intrepid adventurers penetrating enemy territory - or the wind may blow the smoke away. It's best to also rub repellent on your skin and wear clothes."

I get the repellent out of my bag. "Want me to rub this on you?"

 

 

_I stare at the container you're brandishing. "So I either have to have something smeared on me that's literally *repellent* or be eaten alive by insects? This just gets better and better... Well, I *refuse* to get bitten by vile insects, and then be all *itchy* while I'm killing people... Go on, make me repellent..." I sigh in disgust and throw the sleeping bag in through the tent flap._

 

 

"I'm afraid this will make you repellent to me as well, as it tastes vile, so I'll just do the bits that won't be covered by clothes. Also, you might be lucky - midges don't like me, for some reason. Mosquitoes are all over me as a rule, but midges leave me alone. You might have the same - you got enough of my blood in you," I grin.

I rub repellent on your neck, cheeks, ears, and you make a disgusted face. "You get used to the smell - you won't smell it in a few minutes," I reassure you as I do your hands and arms. "Don't rub your eyes with this stuff on your hands," I warn, then do myself.

 

 

_I watch you as you rub the unpleasantly scented substance on your skin._

_“So if we have sex under the stars, we’ll be rubbing our repellent against each other and possibly being attacked by flying biting things...” I say dubiously. “Why did you want to do that exactly?” I pull my clothes out from the tent and start getting dressed._

 

 

Well I had kind of forgotten about the midges in my eagerness to make camping sound attractive...

"Don't worry, they're mostly active during twilight," I say cheerfully. "And I've got another mosquito coil that we can light later. We'll be fine." _I hope_.

"Shall I serve us dinner? I packed many lovely delights. I can put the wine and beers in the stream to keep cool."

 

 

_"I suppose. You'll just have to serve me dinner naked when we're back to civilization…" I say, eying you._

_You eye me back and a wave of heat moves through me._

_What. The fuck._

_What the *fuck*!_

_Like I haven't made suggestive comments to you a few hundred times already? Why did that sound like... making *plans*??? For a - don't say the word don't say the word if you don't think it then it's not a -_

_*DATE*_

_…_

_!!!_

_..._

_FUCK..._

_ME._

_I slip into the tent, and frantically pull my phone from my jacket pocket. I know I'm supposed to be not using it to keep it as charged as possible - but I *need* it!!_

_The real world is usually short bursts of high-octane danger or sex... with longer stretches of devastating boredom..._

_*This* with you is something entirely new - and I don't even have words for what it is or how I feel about it..._

_All I know is I need to retreat for a moment. I plunk myself onto the tent floor, press the menu button of my phone and sweet relief pours through me as the backlit screen makes all things real fade away..._

_except for the tiger wallpaper which brings everything back again. I cover my mouth with my hand to cover my strangled scream._

 

 

I’m unwrapping food when a noise sounds from the tent. I look in to see if you’re alright, to find you glaring at your phone, looking aghast.

I am furious for a moment - how dare the world intrude on our camping trip? But chide myself - we’re on a job, dammit - just because some idiot decided to go and fall in love and complicate things, doesn’t mean the world will sit back and let us work stuff out in peace.

“Jim? What’s wrong?”

I put my hand on your shoulder.

 

 

_I jump._

_“What? Nothing. I just - saw the time,” I say, flustered. “It’s still so *early*... There are so many hours to kill! Any chance another campsite is in the area and we could attack them with an axe? It would be funny...”_

 

 

I grin. "That _would_ be funny, actually... But I doubt it. Also, somehow I forgot the axe... We could use dental floss. Very effective for strangling."

I continue to unwrap the food - chicken caesar salad, sausages, garlic and chives dip, crackers, brie, grapes, calamari, olives, dried tomatoes... You won't have cause to complain. I get myself a beer and pour you a cup of wine, put the rest of the bottles in the stream to keep them cool.

"Dinner's served, Jim..."

 

 

_I stare at my phone screen. “What, Tiger?” I ask in a faraway voice. “Oh, dinner...”I blink. “I”m *starving*!”_

_I throw the phone down on the sleeping bag, and bound over. “This looks delicious...” I say smiling at you. My smile slowly fades as I look around, realization dawning on me. “But where are we going to eat? On the ground??”_

 

 

I look around puzzled. Where else? Did you suspect I might have hidden a collapsible dining table in the saddlebags?

"... yes?" I hazard. "You can sit on my coat if you like..." The ground is not cold even though it's a bit damp.

I spread out my leather coat in front of you with a flourish. "Your seat, Sir?

 

 

_I stare at your coat on the ground. “Very gallant, my dear knight. You just get covered in dirt when you’re out of the city, don’t you? Is this a nostalgic SAS thing?”_

_I sit down, managing to do so with some semblance of grace. “Although you wear it well. Dirt, I mean.” I grin at you. “*Very* well...”_

 

 

... aaaand I’m getting all hot at you looking at me like that. Fuck, you’re beautiful. Those eyes - always capable of making me do anything; but right now it feels like they’re boring straight through me, searing everything in their wake; skin, nerves, muscles, bones; until only my heart and soul are left, exposed to your scrutiny.

Hello? Moran? Since when do we think about hearts and souls? Get with it, soldier... Serve dinner.

There’s not much to serve - the food is in plastic containers on a bin bag, and I give you a plastic plate and some cutlery. Food always tastes so much better when you’re camping - I hope you feel the same.

“You should be happy with this dirt,” I nod to the ground, nice dark earth covered in moss and leaves. “It’s very good dirt, stays in one place. In the desert, with the slightest of breezes, suddenly the ground gets all up in your business - in your hair, your teeth, your eyes... and definitely your food. I swear I scraped away half my enamel chewing sand...

This is good Scottish soil, stays where it’s supposed to. Well, except for a little bit on your face, there...” I reach out, touch your face where a small smear of dirt ended up - probably my fault - and a spark jumps from your skin to mine the moment I touch you. It’s almost visible - I nearly flinch.

I pull my finger back, watch you rub the spot on your face. “Yeah. It’s gone.” My voice is hoarse - I swallow, raise my bottle.

“Cheers, Boss.”

 

 

_I raise my cup, but I don't trust my voice. I gulp down my wine without tasting it. It makes me feel light-headed but it helps._

_I look down at the dirt still on my fingers. "Well! Things are already getting dirty..." I say innocently. "By tonight, we'll be downright filthy."_

_You laugh and wink at me. I busy myself with my food, trying to ignore my heart pounding in my chest._

_Jesus... bad enough that sparks are literally flying when we touch, now I'm about to melt because you *winked*?_

_Is this a... *crush*? Is this what a crush feels like?? I have no idea, but I am *not* allowed to feel any such thing for my fucking *bodyguard*._

_Jesus Christ, Jim..._

_I focus on sampling the assortment of food on my plate. Remarkably delicious... god, is there anything you can't do?_

_I sneak a look at you just as you're sliding a sausage in your mouth._

_Oh *that* really fucking helps..._

_Goddammit, Tiger..._

 

 

"Great food, Tiger..." you compliment me.

"Marks and Spencers' finest," I grin. "Would you like some more wine?"

You nod and I pad to the stream to pick up the bottle, pour you another cup, then get back to my food. It _is_ rather delicious, and even though I didn't make it, I deserve some credit for choosing it.

The sun is setting and the clearing is getting darker, so once I've cleared up the remaining food, I start building a fire. You're looking at me with an uncertain mixture of scorn and admiration, so I ignore you and light the tinder.

Pretty soon we have a nice fire going. I light another mosquito coil to keep the ones that are attracted by the light off our skins, get myself another beer and top up your wine.

"If I had a guitar, and knew how to play it, and could sing, I could play you some campfire songs," I grin.

 

 

_I laugh. “That *is* a tragedy... don’t people tell campfire stories, too? you don’t know any brutal axe murderer tales or bloodcurdling ghost stories? Oh! Marshmallows!! Where can I find a proper stick?”_

 

 

"I'm not sure what you consider a _proper_ stick, but there are a few thousand lying around you..." I say dubiously, indicating, well, the forest, which is, when it comes right down to it, made of sticks in different sizes.

You look at me with disgust. "You mean using a _branch_!?"

"... what's the difference between a branch and a stick?" I ask, puzzled.

"These branches haven't been sanitized! I don't know where they've been! Wildcats may have pissed on them!" you shout in despair at my dim-wittedness.

I grin indulgently, strip the bark of a likely looking stick. "Here you go. One freshly unveiled, clean stick."

You take it, looking suspicious, rubbing your finger across the wood. "It feels sticky!"

I can't help myself - "Well, it would, it's a stick..."

 

 

_I roll my eyes mightily. "Oh, you're a *clever* one, Sebastian... it's remarkable the wit that comes flying out of your mouth sometimes... Now get yourself a stick, because you're going to show me how it's done first. I want to make sure I have the technique down before I attempt it. Oh! I nearly forgot the best part!"_

_I disappear into the tent, and when I return I'm holding a box of digestive biscuits and a Dairy Milk bar. "I remember reading about something called *s'mores* in North America when I was a child, and I was so curious to try it. I never had the chance but that all changes tonight! Do you get it, Sebastian? They're so good you want 'some more'... don't people come up with the *most* adorable things?"_

_I sit on your coat, and start unwrapping biscuits and chocolate. "They're traditionally made with graham crackers, but these will apparently do in a pinch. I'll make you a s'more, Sebastian, if you stop making terrible jokes. Now. Do you have your stick ready?"_

 

 

I grab at the floor, and lo and behold, there's a stick right there. I hold it up, strip the bark off, spear a marshmallow on it. "Now you don't want to hold them directly over the flame, because it will set them on fire," I explain. "So if we move this bit of wood here that's glowing nicely a bit to the side, we can hold it over that. See - it's turning brown slowly. Then you just hold it, turn it slowly, until it's a nice even browny colour. Look good?"

 

 

_I observe your marshmallow as it gently toasts over the fire. "So that's it? Easy enough..."_

_I jam a marshmallow onto my stick, and hold it over the fire. I tilt my head, starting to feel bored. "It's not doing anything. Do I move it closer?" I move my stick a few inches towards the fire, and the marshmallow goes up in flames. "Sebastian! Oh! No!!"_

_I wave my stick in a panic and a flaming marshmallow goes hurtling towards you. You jump out of the way and look at me in disbelief._

 

 

"Don't throw burning marshmallow at me. It's flaming hot goo - it sticks to you and burns; it's really nasty stuff. Also - which bit of 'don't hold it over the flames' was hard for you to understand?" You have the decency to look sheepish, and I relent, offering you my marshmallow, which is nice and evenly done.

"Go on - show me how to make your American delicacy..."

 

 

_"So you just make a sandwich out of biscuits, with marshmallow and chocolate in the middle... and it melts the chocolate..." I lay out the ingredients on your jacket, and look at the marshmallow on the stick._

_"Ah... do I just - " I squeeze the marshmallow and my fingers go through it. I look at you indignantly, and show you my gooey fingers. "A little warning would have been nice, Tiger! How do I get the infernal thing off the stick??"_

 

 

I grin at your indignant face and sticky fingers, take your hand, lick your fingers clean - you're looking at me - I'm looking at you, your fingers still in my mouth - you're looking at me -

Marshmallow forgotten, I launch myself at you. You're lying on your back on my coat and I'm on top of you kissing you like my life depends on it, rubbing myself against you, grasping at your head, your shoulders.

 

 

_Ohhh, what's happening... one moment you're licking my fingers clean, the next you're jumping me._

_"But, *s'mores* - " I protest in between kisses._

_"S'mores later," you mutter, and proceed to devour my lips._

_"There are no stars yet, Sebastian..." I whisper and kiss you back. I had retreated after all the upset, but now kissing appears to be back on the table - except we have no table, only the ground. And kissing is definitely happening on the ground in a spectacular fashion. I had thought to put it aside when I returned home, but - how? How could I ever not kiss you like this again?_

 

 

"This is not the sex under the stars yet either," I whisper. God I _want_ you - it's like that what? hour? not kissing you has just been driving me more and more mad with lust until I now feel ready to explode if I don't have you right here, right now. It doesn't even have to be sex - I mean, my cock is hard and desperate for you, but mostly it's just _touch_ \- I need to feel you, kiss you, hold you, have you in my arms -

Suddenly, I realize what I'm doing, and I stop with a start -

Bloody hell -

I pushed you onto the _ground_ and started grabbing and kissing you!?

You're going to have my _hide_ -

But -

You seem to be enjoying the kissing... and you're kissing back...

 

 

_I open my eyes when you freeze. I look up at you, my hand resting on your cheek._

_"Don't start something you can't finish," I whisper._

_It sounds threatening - of course. What do I say that doesn't have an edge to it?_

_"Now - you knocked my lovely roasted marshmallow into the *dirt* - " I point at the ruined marshmallow on the ground. "Which was my gift from you, I might add! The s'mores I was looking forward to trying since childhood are on hold. *You* started to kiss me, and got me all hot and bothered. So - are you going to finish what you started, Sebastian?" I give you a lascivious smile._

 

 

Oh when you put it like _that_...

I growl low in my throat, launch myself at you, start dragging at your clothes while I kiss your neck, your jaw, your ear -

It's not often I get to do what I want and you'll probably call a halt to this any time now, but while I have free rein - I will feel every inch of you, will cover you in kisses, will have you moan under my caresses... will make you happy...

 

 

_My clothes are being pulled off my body and thrown aside. The biscuits I had removed from the package are knocked to the side as you climb over me._

_“Sebastian!” I snap. “Will you mind the biscuits!”_

_You look at me as if to say, ‘Oh. Come. *On*.’ I try to hold onto to my grumpy face, and I last for only a moment before dissolving into laughter. You laugh along with me but it’s not long before you return to kissing me and now that I’m not wearing anything, things heat up considerably faster._

_I pull at your clothes, and you yank them off. I wrap my legs around you, revelling in the feeling of your skin._

_“Is camping always like this?” I gasp, as your lips devour my neck._

 

 

"Yeah," I mumble against your skin. "You can imagine why I loved the army so much..."

Careful Seb - if he's jealous of imaginary blue elves, he's not going to be too pleased about references to actual existing soldiers. If you don't want him to wipe out the entire SAS in a fit of jealousy, best not make any jokes about sexy times in the Special Forces...

My cock rubs against yours, and I feel it twinge in desire, make my way down your body kissing until I get to my prize. Hello, my pretty... come here often?

 

 

_Loved the army... huh. Oh, that’s nice... Put *that* image in my head._

_I feel a slow burn moving through me, and I pull your head off me by the hair._

_“Sebastian, do you think you have it in you to not refer to your sexual history while we’re in the middle of *fucking sex*?” I growl. “What part of ‘make me feel like the most beautiful goddamn creature under the sun’ do you *not* understand?”_

 

 

I groan. I _knew_ it...

"I was being _sarcastic_ , Jim... This is most _definitely_ not part of normal camping. And you _are_ the most beautiful goddamn creature either under the sun or above it. And if you'll let go of my hair, I'll prove it to you..."

 

 

_I tighten my hand in your hair and you wince._

_“Oh, I don’t know - I rather like it...”_

_But I relent and let go - slowly - and caress your hair with my fingers. It’s the closest I’ll come to being contrite. I didn’t overreact, I *didn’t*, I tell myself. The thought of you with muscular soldiers, writhing in sleeping bags, feeding each other marshmallows, licking each other’s sticky fingers - ok, you probably didn’t do that. But you’d do it with me, wouldn’t you... my beautiful soldier..._

 

 

"You're welcome to put your hand in my hair... just don't keep me away from your gorgeous cock..." I murmur as I make my way back down. Oh hello there sweetie... where were we?

 

 

_I look down at you and see you slowly, emphatically lick up along the underside of my cock. If the movement were a sentence, it would have ended with an exclamation mark._

_You lick down fervently. My eyes roll back in my head and my eyelids flutter shut._

_Oh. Holy. Fuck._

_Definitely three exclamation points..._

_I’m not clear what you’re saying, but yes! *Agreed*!!!_

 

 

Oh yes, my darling, we understand each other, don't we? Even if I don't have a clue what your owner wants, or is going through, at the moment, at least you and I are still best friends... I know how to make you bigger, how to make you shiver, how to use my tongue on you to elicit the most beautiful sounds from his mouth... Let us dance, my sweet one...

 

 

_I let out a low moan as you work your magic on my cock. My god, you melt my brain with what your mouth can do... The world is definitely poorer with you off the market. And you are *fucking* off the market. Piss off, world. This one’s *taken*..._

_Did that sound - no, *no*. I just don’t tolerate people touching my things. It has nothing to do with *feelings*... or a - don’t think it don’t think it - *crush*._

_I look down to distract myself with the gorgeous sight of you working on my cock, and of course you choose that moment to look at me. God, those fucking blue eyes..._

_I close mine tightly and groan as you lick and tease..._

 

 

Ah yes, we know how to make him moan, don’t we? I look up at you, and you’re looking at me, and... what is that look in your eyes? It’s more than the usual possessiveness - is that... fondness I saw there? Or am I seeing things?

You close your eyes quickly and let yourself get lost in the sensations, and I renew my efforts on your cock.

I see a midge make its way onto your unprotected chest... damn it, fuck off, bloodsucking fiend, this one is mine to suck and mine only. I swipe it off - I do hope you won’t be under siege from more, because an itchy Jim is not something I want to have to deal with, but there’s no way I’m going to stop this to put more repellent on you.

 

 

_I’m distracted from the unfathomable pleasure of your mouth when you swipe at something on my chest. What the fuck? Flying biting things? I look around suspiciously and see nothing._

_I moan, and feel the pace increase._

_“Oh god, *Seb*...” I mutter, and my eyes close involuntarily._

_I feel my hips begin to move, and my cock moves back and forth in your mouth. My hands tighten in your hair._

_“So good...” I whisper. “So *fucking* good...”_

 

 

Thank fuck for this. Even when the world is falling apart, I don't know what's going on in my mind, and you appear to be going through some weird crisis of your own, which may or may not end in death or disfigurement for me, _this_ is as it always is. Your cock and I, we understand each other. We love and appreciate each other.

I know exactly how to drive you out of your mind, and I'm doing just that. Regardless of what is going on for you, Jim, you will remember that there's no one else who can give you anything akin to this...

 

 

_Oh god, you *are* trying to melt my brain. Oh - god - take it - I - *don’t* - *care*..._

_I gasp as lusty shivers overtake me, make me shudder, and groan, and thrust into your mouth..._

_“*Fuck*!”_

_Then there’s only ecstasy, ecstasy, *blissblissbliss*, as I come in violent spurts into your welcoming mouth._

_“Holy – fuck - Tiger...” I gasp, looking up at the trees._

_Trees? Right, trees... Camping may be growing on me... but I’ll never admit it, ever, ever..._

 

 

Ah... yes... that's the Jim I know and...

like...

Your moans, your shudders, your invective...

Your delicious seed into my mouth...

I know how to drive you absolutely berserk by keeping licking and sucking as you get softer and more sensitive... pretty soon I have you mewling and writhing.

 

 

_"Oh," I whimper, and try to pull away. It doesn't work. I try to bat your head away but I'm feeling too weak and kittenish to make much impact._

_"Stop, stop, oh god...Tiger!" I plead, trying to haul you up._

_I look down and see you grinning up at me_

_"I'm sorry? I didn't quite catch that. Bit busy..." you say apologetically. "You were saying?"_

_"Oh, nothing - just that I'm going to kill you while you sleep. But you may as well get a proper send-off into the next world..."_

_I sit up and shove you down onto your coat. Something crunches under your back and we both look at each other._

_"I *told you* to mind the bloody biscuits, Tiger..." I say archly. Then a smile spreads across my face. "You are in so much trouble..."_

_I lower my head, take your rock hard cock into my mouth, and get to work._

 

 

Oh... well if this is me being in trouble, I'll happily be in trouble more often. It usually involves more pain, slammed doors and cutting words...

Don't think of that, Seb. This is fucking great. Enjoy it.

Bloody hell... for someone who doesn't suck cock all that often, you are _remarkably_ good at it. Pretty soon I'm helpless in your hands - I was already incredibly hot for you, and sucking your cock is one of my favourite pastimes...

Oh god Jim...

 

 

_I get you good and hard, good and excited._

_“Sebbie, will you roast me a marshmallow? I need it for the next bit..._

 

 

What the _fuck?!_

"What? Marshmallow? How?!"

You're looking at me smugly and, most annoyingly, not sucking my cock.

"Fuck, Jim - _really!?_ " I mutter. But there's nothing for it - if I want you back on my cock, I'll have to roast you a fucking marshmallow.

I shove one on a stick, hold it over a glowing log, forcing myself to keep it nice and steady so it doesn't burn.

I've never known you to stop for _snacks_ in the middle of a blowjob...

 

 

_I retrieve my sleeping bag as you do my bidding in a surly manner. “Thank you, Sebbie...” I coo, sitting naked on your coat and wrapped in the sleeping bag._

_You shove the stick at me, and I take it. I blow gently and touch the golden outside tentatively. My fingers dig in and test the temperature._

_“‘Tis enough... ‘twill serve,” I say grandly. “Bring me your bits.”_

 

 

Hold on... you’re not going to... oh fuck Jim... not my cock... come on, you love my cock...

I look at you, pleading, but you just nod at my crotch, and... I can’t disobey you... it’s physically impossible... I’m already moving towards you without conscious thought - that was an order and it shall be followed, regardless of consequences.

I sit in front of you, legs spread, acutely aware of how vulnerable I am.

 

 

_“Sebbie... what is this look on your face?” I chide. “I’m not going to *scald* you, silly Tiger... it’s just a little warm...“_

_I stroke you until you’re hard again... kiss your lips... slowly push the warm marshmallow over the head of your cock, and down over your shaft. You screw up your face then relax when you realize you’re not going to experience any damage. I watch with fascination as goo spills out the sides._

_“All right? No burning, see?” I say reassuringly._

_“Uh huh...” you say dubiously. “Just a sticky melted confection all over my business...”_

_“It’s a variation of s’mores, Tiger. Do be indulgent. Now this won’t work with biscuits, obviously. - but we still have some chocolate to use...” I slide a square of chocolate into the marshmallow, which is looking like it’s going to fall off your cock and land on your coat._

_“Oh, no - can’t have that...” I push you onto your back, then lean my head down and move the marshmallow up and down your cock. I look at it, and it’s a gooier mess than anticipated._

_“No one tells you how *messy* they are...” I complain, and move my tongue along your cock, coated with marshmallow and chocolate._

_“Melted marshmallow is messy? Shocking...” you gripe, but I hear your breathing grow ragged._

_“Mmm... I see why they’re popular, though...” I say glowingly. I lick up and down firmly, my saliva loosening the sticky goo off your skin. I look up and see a relaxed Tiger enjoying the attention at last._

_“Mmm... I think I’ll call it a Tiger Pop S’more...” I say grandly, and begin to suck you in earnest._

 

 

You’re insane. But you licking the stuff off me does feel good.

And then you’re getting to work on my cock and coherence flees, until all I can feel is your mouth, and all I can think of is you... god you’re so fucking hot... so amazing... so incredibly deadly and powerful and intelligent and sexy and beautiful and oh god I love you...

I’m lost, aren’t I?

I’m completely, totally, and utterly lost to you... I was yours already; I knew I could never get away from you, but I’m digging myself in further and further...

My hands are digging into the soil, my mouth is groaning... Jim god Jim... _Jim_...

 

 

_The noises you’re making are delightful... Mmm, I love having your naked body stretched out before me... your long limbs... your muscular torso... and your goddamn beautiful cock. All mine, my deadly darling..._

_*Deadly darling*... Umm... This isn’t usually what’s going on in my head. Something’s definitely changed... But I can’t figure out what to do about it while we’re in the woods, when I’m feeling more and more like I’m falling under some kind of spell, when you’re groaning as I suck your gorgeous cock._

_Ahh... and I certainly can’t figure anything out now that the shivering has begun... and soon you’re shuddering against me, gasping and moaning..._

_*Yes*, my beautiful soldier, come for me, my sweet..._

_(Fuck’s sake, Jim...)_

 

 

Oh god... oh god oh god oh god... _Fuckkkkkk..._

_JimJimJimJimJIM..._

_ILoveYouILoveYouILoveYou..._

I'm coming in shocks and spurts, I'm groaning, growling, _mewling_ as I'm squirming on the forest floor...

"Fuck... fuckkkkkk Jim... oh god you're fucking amazing..."

Oh god this is so fucking intense... do orgasms get more intense when you're in love? Because I don't think I've ever felt it like this before... damn... oh man...

With a shivering groan I collapse back onto the ground, panting.

 

 

_I swallow with satisfaction, and crawl up to collapse against you. I pull my sleeping bag over both of us. It's remarkably cosy, lying on the ground looking up at the trees. I have to squeeze right up against you, for us to both to fit on your coat - such a hardship, being nestled against your muscular body._

_(Stop it, Jim...)_

_"Well, it wasn't *quite* traditional, but I'd say the s'more was a smashing success. Would you like me to make you a real one?" I offer magnanimously. "There are a few biscuits left that you didn't crush..."_

 

 

"Sounds great..." I murmur, not releasing you from my arms. How often will I get to enjoy this, you snuggled up to me? It's so rare - you're not a snuggler, usually move away after sex, saying you dislike me stifling you. Which - didn't use to bother me, but...

Oh god I'm becoming a fucking _normal_ person, one of those that you despise so much. I want _snuggles_ , and _cuddles_ , and sweet words and caresses...

But you seem to want those too, at least today... maybe something _did_ change for both of us yesterday...

Or maybe it's just you being hungover and weak.

Whatever it is, I'm taking what I can get. And right now, what I got is snuggles on my leather coat under a sleeping bag, next to a fire under the Scottish sky... which chooses this moment to start raining.

Oh you fucking _dicks_ , weather gods...

 

 

_"NOOO!" I shout._

_You're jumping up naked and gathering up food, which is quite a sight. I curse, grab my sleeping bag, pitch it in the tent, return cursing for the clothes and s'more supplies, throw the damp heap into the tent and return to see if there's anything left, cursing at the top of my lungs. You've brought the remaining food and drinks to the tent, and nudge me to go in._

_I storm into the tent in a fury, and fall into a cross-legged position. I'm naked and wet and already bored._

_"Well? Now what do we do??" I ask in disbelief._

 

 

"Wait five minutes - it's Scotland. The weather is even more changeable than you are.

For now, we dry off-" I hand you a towel, grab myself one - not the muddy one, I did pack us both two - and dry myself, "- and cuddle under the sleeping bag to keep warm, listening to the rain, eating chocolate. Then when the rain is over, I'll rekindle the fire."

 

 

_"If we had a generator for devices, we could watch a film or listen to music," I say sullenly. But I crawl under the sleeping bag - I did have a vision of us feeding each other marshmallows in the tent and... possibly kissing some more._

_Seriously, Jim?_

_This is your bodyguard, remember??_

_I open the bag of marshmallows. "Would you like a proper s'more, Tiger? Well, it won't be a melted marshmallow... but I promise it will go in your mouth..."_

 

 

"I'm afraid none will live up to the *first* one..." I grin, "but yes, I'd like to try a proper one."

 

 

_"Well, I'll make a *proper* one when we have a fire going again... but this will have to tide you over." I grin, and start laying out ingredients for two s'mores._

_(Seriously, Jim - why don't you bake a nice cake for him next?)_

_"The biscuits are a bit crumbly due to a lusty Tiger..." I shoot a glare at you, and you stick your tongue out._

_"*Oh*… *insolent* Tigers will not get *any* s'mores…" I warn, but you grin at me._

_Oh god, you're making me so ridiculously coy and flirtatious... will this wear off with a nice murder?_

_(Yes, just wait until tomorrow, Jim...)_

_"All right..." I place a marshmallow and a square of chocolate on a biscuit, then another biscuit on top. Then I squoosh everything together with a loud crunch. We look at each other. "This is going to completely fall apart if I take my hands away - just open your mouth, Tiger..."_

_You roll your eyes but open your mouth obediently._

_I push the entire concoction into your mouth, and you crunch down on it, biscuit crumbs flying everywhere._

_"I thought aristocrats had better table manners," I say reproachfully._

_I start to giggle as you glare at me and try to chew the huge mouthful. Then I laugh uproariously as you manage to close your lips, but your eyes are smiling again, and... and... the moment you've swallowed your s'more, I find myself kissing you._

 

 

Ok I have a mouth full of crumbs and a Jim kissing me - interesting combination. I desperately try to swallow the crumbs, making silly sounds that make you giggle, which makes _me_ giggle, and before I know what’s happening we’re both giggling helplessly on the floor of the tent.

What the fuck, Moran. You are two hardened criminals. You don’t _giggle_.

 

 

_I’m trying to catch my breath from laughing, and I feel... light. Free. I’m stuck in a goddamn tent in the Scottish woods, while it pours outside. There’s absolutely nothing to do in here. And I feel better than I have in... ever? (The fuck?) Well, as far back as I remember, anyway. I push the thought aside - it’s too much to process at the moment._

_I look at you, and you’re still snickering as you brush crumbs off your face._

_“Well? Aren’t you going to make me one?” I ask, grinning madly._

 

 

"Oh, sure - I have just had a tutorial, I should be fine..."

I put a square of chocolate and a marshmallow on a biscuit, press another one on top, trying to do so without cracking the biscuits and failing. Giggling, I move the whole contraption to your mouth.

 

 

_Unlike you, I don’t get as far as biting down before I start to laugh. I cover my mouth with my hands before wet crumbs go flying all over you and the tent. You’re in hysterics which is really not helping - I try to admonish you as I chew, and it just makes things worse. You’ve fallen over on the tent floor and I’m turning away from you so I can stop laughing long enough to chew without choking to death._

_I point at a water bottle and you throw it at my chest, snickering._

_I roll my eyes mightily and take a sip - just enough to swallow most of my mouthful._

_“You - are - *so* dead,” I cough, before I fall down laughing._

 

 

"I know - my boss keeps trying to choke me," I giggle.

"I don't know, Jim... I don't think these s'mores are going to catch on... They're awfully messy..." I sweep the crumbs off the sleeping bag into the pouring rain outside. It's really coming down hard, but my experience with Scotland is that it may be lovely and clear in twenty minutes.

 

 

_"So? *You're* awfully messy. Bloody savage..." I shove you playfully. "And *you* caught on..."_

 

 

"Rawr," I roar, and grab you, pull you on top of me on the sleeping bags. We're still giggling, but the giggles subside, and then there's just your eyes... so dark in the dark of the forest, so deep, so black, so easy to get lost in...

 

 

_Ok. What’s happening *now*..._

_I mean, I’d get it if we were horny... Things have been super-charged between us since whatever the fuck happened in Inverness._

_But we just blew each other rather spectacularly. So what... could we possibly... desire??_

_My mind slows the fuck down. I feel *trapped* in your gaze, like some prehistoric animal struggling in vain, flailing in a tar pit, and sinking further... and further... and further. I’m becoming fossilized, making way for something else, a vibrant new life form for a new era - *what*?? Where did *that* come from?! Stop being poetic!! Stop looking into your bodyguard’s eyes!! Stop -_

_Just *stop* this..._

_don’t kiss him again..._

_don’t..._

_I don’t think there’s any coming back from that, Moriarty..._

_I stare at your lips and once again find myself wishing you would kiss me, so whatever happens won’t be my fault._

 

 

Your eyes come closer, so slowly... growing bigger, becoming the night sky that I am getting lost in... my lips open slightly, in readiness for... whatever will happen...

And the movement stops, tantalizingly close, and your eyes look at my lips, questioningly... of course I’ll answer your request, demand, plea... my head moves up to close the distance, my hand moving towards the back of your neck, but stopping, because I don’t want to hold you down - if you want to escape from the kiss that is about to happen, really getting very imminent now, you can...

But you remain still, and your lips touch mine, so lightly, but it makes a warmth explode from my core outwards, until I am glowing throughout. And then there is a bit more pressure, from both of us... and my tongue tentatively sneaks out to lick your lip, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so incredibly conscious of every small aspect of a kiss.

 

 

_I've never been kissed like this..._

_Never kissed like this..._

_Even with yesterday being swallowed by a mist, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt - *I have never kissed like this before*._

_The entire universe is composed of where 'you' and 'I' meet... warm bodies pressed against each other... the gentle movement of lips and tongues... as if we're searching for something..._

_What... would I be searching for?_

_And if I *was* searching - what could I find in you?_

 


	6. The Great Marshmallow Battle of the Cairngorms

My cock is not really interested in the proceedings any more, and nor is yours - this is so unlike us. Kissing, _if_ it happens, is you fiercely claiming my mouth before a fuck, an expression of hunger and greed -

This...

This is...

Tenderness.

Which is... inconceivable. Jim Moriarty does not do tenderness. Sebastian Moran used to, if required, but not with Jim Moriarty.

Yet here it is... my lips gently catching your lower lip, my hand slowly stroking over your back... stroking with such intent, feeling every inch of your skin, cherishing it with my fingers...

 

 

_I look at you and again feel trapped by your eyes. “Don’t get upset again, but what *is* this? This thing we’re doing... what is it called? Why do people do it and - what exactly does it lead to? I don’t think - I understand...”_

 

 

I smile at you. "It's kissing... People do it because it makes them feel pleasant, I guess? And makes them feel close to the person they do it with... It's making me feel pleasant, and close to you... as does the stroking, and lying close together. I am not sure if it should lead to anything... I mean, it could lead to sex, but I don't think either of us is very much up for that at the moment. I'm enjoying it... are you?"

 

 

_I roll my eyes. “I *know* it’s called kissing. Jesus... I’m a psychopath, not a visiting alien. It just always seemed like such overwrought sentimental silliness... hm.” I look up at you. “I suppose I am enjoying it, or I wouldn’t be doing it. But I’m not understanding it... It doesn’t *seem* like the kind of thing crimes bosses should do with their bodyguards. Am I right?”_

_You look disappointed, and before I knew it, I’ve pulled you into another kiss. Fuck. Why are *your* facial expressions affecting *my* actions? In what world does that happen?_

 

 

Yeah OK that was a bit patronizing of me... but I was feeling so sweet, so comfortable... and then you remind me of who you are when you call it overwrought sentimental silliness.

Of course.

No, it's not the thing crime bosses do with their bodyguards... I suppose. None of my previous bodyguard gigs featured kissing, but then none of them was for more than a couple of days.

But as I'm swallowing my disappointment, you're pulling me close and you're kissing me again... Oh my beautiful impossible Jim -

I stroke your hair, so soft... your neck, so smooth and statuesque... your shoulder, compact and muscular... your back, perfectly curved...

 _Jim_...

 

 

_I shiver as I feel your hands on me. You stroke my hair, and I lift my head to look at you._

_"So people just - do this to feel close. To what end?" I ask idly, not expecting there to be an answer. "I never understood..."_

_"Because it feels good, and... to not be alone?" you ask, looking confused - as if all this should be self-explanatory._

_Well if it was, I wouldn't need to ask - would I? Silly Tiger..._

_"Because it feels good. And to not feel alone..." I muse. "You know, that's the only answer that really makes sense to me... Very pragmatic, very succinct - good work, Tiger... " I run my hand through your golden hair. "How's this? How does it make you feel?"_

_It's making *me* feel warm, but you don't need to know that..._

 

 

It’s hard to not go all ‘this is a kiss and we earthlings do it for pleasure’ when you’re being so... alien? You know so much about people, can tell their life story and their deepest darkest motives from a single glance, and then you are so surprised when you yourself exhibit human aspects... my lovely psychopath...

Your hand through my hair feels... loving, but I can’t use that word. Lovely... that’s relatively innocent, and it still has the word love in it -

You’re dancing on a tightrope, Sebastian...

Yes well that’s what I do.

“It feels lovely... and it does make me feel close to you. Like, you don’t get anything out of that - it’s not to make you get off, or to get me into a state you like. You’re just doing it because you want to touch me, and because it makes me feel good - and it’s...” _sweet_ “nice.”

I stroke your hair. “How does it feel to you?”

What the fuck are we doing? We’re like two hippies on E... any moment you’re going to throw me to the side and throw up.

But... it’s so soft and... lovely...

 

 

_I shrug. "Pleasant. Weird." I pause. "Warm."_

_Oh, that's the one I wasn't going to say. These *nice, lovely* feelings are confusing everything._

_I eye you like a ten-headed monster. God. How did I get here? I'm rubbing myself all over my bodyguard, and - it's not even sexual?_

_Camping is to blame, I decide. It makes everyone act strangely, because there's nothing to focus on, nothing to *do*... what is there to do here in a tent, when we're sexually spent and waiting for the infernal rain to stop?_

_All right, let's break this down..._

_While drunk, I inadvertently discovered kissing and touching are pleasant._

_There's nothing to do in this tent and that is bloody boring._

_Ergo, it follows that I want to do more of the pleasant things._

_Of course. It's that or be *bored*._

_And this might be weird - but between boring and weird, I know what I choose._

_Rubbing myself all over my bodyguard._

_I touch your face, and feel the warmth move through me. It makes me want to squirm, especially when I see your face soften._

_Quick. Distract him._

_"So. If it's not leading up to sex, then - what do you do next? What's the desired outcome?"_

 

 

"I think it's considered to be its own reward. Like - going for a walk instead of walking _somewhere_. And what people generally do next differs..."

Am I really giving basic sex ed to James Moriarty!? The man who has shown me more ways to have sex than I had ever considered possible?

"You could kiss other parts of the body, like the neck, chest, ears... find which areas the other person finds pleasurable. You could stroke different parts of their body too - find if they have sensitive spots, places where they like being touched, where they don't like being touched. You could stop kissing for a bit and just lie together and talk.

Does any of that sound interesting to you?"

 

 

_“Fascinating. I feel like I’m in an immersive cultural anthropology course and this is the mating habits module. Well, Professor Moran - I’m the student from another land who has no understanding of these bizarre customs, and does the equivalent of using the wrong fork. The horror! The chaos!” You snort and I grin at you in the darkness._

_“What do you suggest I try first?”_

 

 

"Hmmm... I know it's a big ask, but - could you try to listen to your body, not your brain? Try to get your brain to be a backseat observer, seeing what your body says it longs to do. See, my body longs to do this..." I kiss your jaw, your ear, your neck - sucking a little, not enough to leave marks, but enough to make you breathe a bit harder.

 

 

_I shiver._

_“Listen to your body? Where is this hippie shite coming from? When is it ever a good idea to shut your brain off?” I scoff._

_Silence._

_I sigh heavily. “Fine. What else do I have to do in here? Don’t listen to my brain... “ I repeat. “You hear that, brain? You’re not welcome in this tent...”_

_I focus on my body. So what do I want to do...?_

_What’s that, body? You want to strangle Sebastian for getting us to do this?_

_Oh no that’s you, isn’t it Brain. Bad Brain. Off to the backseat with you..._

_Seems harsh treatment for all the good my wonderful brain has done me._

_So, Body - how can you possibly compare?_

_I peer at you through the darkness. You really are a delightful specimen of manhood. I’ve touched you before, when you were restrained - but that was strategic, to make you react, desire me, long for me... What would it be like to touch you solely for pleasure? I pull back the sleeping bag, and start to run my hands over your chest and arms._

_Hmmph. It does feel good..._

 

 

Yeah, I hadn't expected you to jump at the thought - but you're giving it a good old British try, which is an awful lot coming from you.

I see your face looking at me assessingly - alright, that's good - I know you find me hot. You're stroking me in a way that reminds me of when my cousin's girlfriend was persuaded to stroke Grandma's cat - like she wasn't sure how to touch, what pressure to put, and if it wasn't going to explode and attack her (it did). You look like you're trying to gather information from my body, like you're reading me with your fingers, acquiring data - but then you seem to get into it; your face softens, you look at my chest not like it's a specimen to be examined, but as if you're enjoying how it feels. You're letting your hands dance - feathery touches, strolling fingers, full flat hand gliding softly, then with more pressure. You move from my chest to my arms and I am again reminded of someone on ecstasy - this guy and I once spent two hours just stroking each other with rapt attention. Was there something in the water we drank? Are we, in fact, stoned out of our minds on some obscure Scottish mushroom that has launched its spores onto this clearing?

Or... are you actually melting a bit, Jim?

 

 

_It just popped out. I didn't *know* I was going to say it._

_One moment, I'm touching your skin - sometimes smooth, sometimes scarred - and the next moment, I feel myself wanting to kiss your scars (!!!) - is *that* the kind of thing I'm supposed to be listening to my body about?? Surely not! I know the rules have been relaxed, but kissing your bodyguard's scars is... quite far beyond *bending the rules*. Fuck's *sake*, Jim... That's smashing them to bits with a claw-hammer. No, actually - it's blowing them off the face of the earth with napalm._

_So there I am picturing myself *kissing your scars* like some character from an epic romantic tale - and I pause when I hear my internal voice snarl, 'Have you gone quite insane?' and I respond, 'YES! Why do I feel this way?!' and the voice clams up and refuses to say. And that's when I hear myself say out loud in a mystified voice:_

_"Sebastian... What the fuck happened in Inverness??"_

 

 

“What?” I’m shaken out of my enjoyment of being petted and wishing Tigers could purr by your insistent question.

“We got drunk. We got very drunk. We played a game... truth or dare and then two truths and a lie but I didn’t stand a chance. And then we played truth or dare again... and ended up fucking... and passed out.

Oh and I think I killed someone’s phone at the restaurant.

Why? What’s wrong?”

 

 

_“Oh, nothing! It’s just that *nothing* has felt the same since last night! And I don’t know *why* and whenever I ask, you answer very carefully... like you *coached* yourself. For someone who does covert assignments, you’re remarkably bad at hiding things... at least from me! Which is as it should be...” I observe you trying to look nonchalant and confused. “If all that happened is drinking and games and sex, why are we doing *this*? Making out and touching and carrying on like teenagers in - “ I almost bite my tongue in my hurry to stop myself. My eyes flicker over yours and once more I feel myself trapped by your gaze. “Why do you think I’m asking you so many ridiculous questions??” I ask plaintively. “Nothing makes sense anymore and I’m just trying to understand these *things* people do! Because I’m fucking doing them! So I just woke up one day and felt like making out and giggling in a tent? Does that really happen??”_

 

 

I take pity on you - you really seem lost, my poor... Jim.

"Look, I know it's an alien concept, but hear me out. Yesterday... we got very drunk. And sometimes when people get drunk, they... discover parts of themselves they normally keep hidden, under their strict layers of discipline, civilization, masks, whatever. It releases inhibitions. So maybe... you released some of the restrictions you place on yourself? Maybe you allowed yourself to - feel a little? To be a bit more human? You certainly seemed so to me. You were giggling, you were... sweet in your caresses... and you seemed to enjoy it. I certainly did - it's nice to see a human side to the man you've given your life to.

So... you woke up this morning, severely hungover, and you found you _still_ wanted to do those things, now that you've tasted them. Is that so bad? I know it's not what you normally do, but lots of lesser people seem to find an awful lot of enjoyment from it - if you find that you like it - what is there to worry about? Why is it upsetting you so?"

 

 

_"Because! Where does it end! One day it's kissing, the next day it's caressing, and this time next year we're picking out china patterns?" My hand curls around your wrist. "Oh, darling... A mad weekend is one thing, but I got to where I am by following certain rules. Not enmeshing myself. It was easy when I felt nothing. Feeling a *little* could lead to feeling *more*, and trust me - the day I start feeling big feelings... it will be chaos and destruction the likes of which you've *never* seen. Just try not to be in the line of fire - grab a human shield."_

_I return to caressing your arm. "I know there's something you're not telling me..." I say in a sing-song voice. "I suspect I don't want to know and it's driving me mad that I don't know... so you see the conundrum I'm in..._

_Here's another question. Do people end up talking about things they would never talk about in a million years when they're camping?? It's like I've been injected with sodium pentothal. Sebastian - you didn't inject me with sodium pentothal, did you?" I say in a purring voice, and nibble the side of your neck. "Oh look - my body felt like doing that, and I did it. What's my next assignment?"_

 

 

"Fuck it Jim, I don't _know!_ "

Oh. I was being patient and kind, but it appears I've stopped.

"I don't _know_ what you're like, what you want, what you need, what your fucking _rules_ are. Has it ever occurred to you that I am a person too? And I may have rules and needs of my own?"

No... no Seb don't go there...

"The whole slippery slope argument is bullshit! There's nothing about kissing that leads to IKEA! And fuck it - you're _not_ some unfeeling shark! You _do_ have feelings, otherwise you wouldn't keep going fucking _on_ about this! Otherwise you wouldn't be so confused by what is going on!"

Any moment you want to stop talking...

"And _I_ have feelings! I am a fucking human being and I can't be with someone who is so fucking unique for so fucking long without _feeling_ some things, alright?!"

Yes, you might have wanted to stop talking before that...

 

 

_My mouth drops open. "Be with?" I ask in a daze. "What - are we talking about? 'Be with' as in living and working in the same environment? Or *be with*??"_

_There seems to be some kind of meltdown happening in my brain because the words 'be with' keep popping through my brain like a pinball, amidst flashing red lights and pinging noises. "And yes, I'm fully aware you're a human being with rules and needs and feelings! Are you aware of how psychopaths function? Empathy isn't exactly in their skill set, and they don't handle feelings particularly well, if that's not obvious to you by now... why do you keep demanding more of me this weekend! Why are you acting like my - " boyfriend. *Boyfriend*. BOYFRIEND! My eyes widen and I look at you, frozen._

 

 

"FUCK's sake Jim! What are you, fourteen!? Are we _really_ having a 'what are we' discussion!? _Be with_ as in live with, be fucked by, protect with my life, be tortured by, almost get killed by, would happily die for, work for, kill for, sold my fucking soul to! I don't think Cosmopolitan have quite got round to classifying that yet!

And I _know_ you're a fucking psychopath! You keep reminding me! But _you're_ the one who keeps on wanting to try things! _You're_ the one who is like 'oh, let's try being nice and kissing and caressing’ and then get upset when that moves me!? What do you think; I'm made of stone!? Well you may be, but I'm not! I am a fucking living breathing human with _feelings_ and I _fucking love you!_ "

 

...

 

... definitely should have stopped talking.

 

 

_The *love* pinball goes hurtling around the machine which promptly explodes._

_And then the flaming pieces of the machine explode._

_And then the flaming embers cause a sinkhole, and I fall in._

_I'm blinking rapidly, trying to close my mouth - if I were a cartoon character, my jaw would be on the ground._

_I do a quick audit of the sensations careening though me - anger, horror, hysterical muteness, hysterical deafness, just plain hysteria, and underneath... underneath..._

_Relief._

_Exhaustion._

_And what's that one there, hiding? I don't know, but if it were a sound it would be *aww*. And if I were a cartoon character, my eyes would be little red hearts._

_What the fuck??_

_"You -" I cover my face. "what? No, *what*? How did this happen??" I peek out from behind my hand. "And - for how long??"_

 

 

_Fuck..._

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

I should _not_ allow myself to get this hungover again. I clearly am unable to function.

Declaring one's love to Jim Moriarty. I might as well have offered free bacon sandwiches to the Taliban. Probably saner.

"I'm sorry, Jim..." I say, shaking my head. "I'm upset. I...

just forget it."

 

 

_"*Forget it*? You want me to forget it??"_

_Now there's panic - huh. Interesting._

 

 

"It's not important. It's - I know it's my problem, not yours. I'm sorry I bothered you with it. Please, can we just - not mention it again?"

 

 

_More panic. This has ceased being interesting, and now it's just scary. Scary at the thought of what lies beyond, but also scary at the thought of going back._

_"Is that - what you want?" I ask quietly. My heart pounds._

 

 

"It's not important what I want, is it. I've learnt that a long time ago. I'm sorry."

 

 

_"Stop saying you're sorry! What if - it is important?"_

 

 

"In the grand scheme of things? Nothing is. To me? Yeah, well. I usually manage to suppress it. I'm a soldier - I perform my mission, regardless of personal whims."

 

 

_You must be able to hear my heart pounding by now?_

_"Well, that sounds horridly boring... What if I would like more for you?"_

_Where do you think you're going with this, Jim Moriarty? He gave you an out - just step through it._

 

 

I sigh. There are tears in my eyes.

"You just told me. You can't. You don't want to get involved with _feelings_. The way you said it, like you were talking about something smelly stuck to the bottom of your shoe... that was pretty clear.

I - don't think it's been going on long. It was just - yesterday, you were suddenly - _you_ , without the masks, without the arrogant distance, without the cruelty -

I've been in serious awe of you for, like, forever. But it was - awe. Not - closeness, not having fun together, not making each other laugh -

But then yesterday, for a moment, you were so close. And - I saw you as - human, rather than superhuman, if that makes any sense. And - well, the shell _I_ had around my heart broke. And... I fell in love. Quite suddenly, quite dramatically, quite unexpectedly.

And - well, you can imagine it's been plaguing on my mind today. And then you being all touchy-feely and wanting to _try things out_ \- I thought you were playing with me at first, then I realized you weren't, but - can you imagine how fucking _hard_ it is trying to get to grips with being in love with your boss and trying to keep calm and carry on, while said boss is freaking out about what _he_ is experiencing but it's definitely not feeling because he doesn't do feelings but in the meantime he'll be as sweet and adorable and close as he can be!?"

I realize I nearly shouted the last bit, and my fists are clenched. I breathe out, force my fingers to relax.

 

 

_I listen, my alarm growing as you speak. "Not *wanting* to get involved with feelings is one thing... But this was all before - before I *knew*! And - I *did* feel something, I told you! And you saw it! I didn't know how *you* felt, but I was feeling... *something*... A crush, I thought! A crush!! *Me*!! *Do you have any idea what that means?* James Moriarty feels something for another human! And now *you* feel sad or dejected, and *I* panic! You get angry, and again... panic! It's driving *you* crazy that I keep getting close and then pulling back?? How do you think it feels for *me*?? It's like I'm imprisoned, and I keep coming so close to escaping, but I can't actually have what I want..._

_and I want *you*, you idiot! Why do you think I'm behaving like an erratic teenager??"_

_What comes after Jim Moriarty expresses feelings for another human? I cover my face with my hands and groan. Oh god! Will the four horsemen of the apocalypse come riding through our campsite on their way to Armageddon? Should I prepare s'mores for their journey?_

_I struggle to keep my breathing even, and a soft whimper escapes my lips._

_"I'm - sorry, all right? I have the emotional intelligence and empathy of a viper..." I say softly from behind my hands. "But... I *want* you..."_

 

 

My mouth hangs open and I am absolutely unable to shut it.

You...

_Jim!?_

You don’t...

You _can’t_...

You... _felt?_

You... have a _crush?!_ James Moriarty?! A crush, like some... mortal?!

_On ME?!?_

My heart races as the words penetrate.

Feel.

Crush.

Panic.

_Yeah, you and me both, Boss..._

 

_I want you, you idiot._

 

 _I_ want _you_...

 

This isn’t possible. There _are_ mushroom spores in the air and now I’m hallucinating.

... you?

Jim?!

Psychopath, killer, arrogant genius fucker, miles above mere mortals...

... want _me?!_

Your loyal bodyguard, acolyte, sex toy, assassin, pet tiger?

You, who are unable to feel _anything_ , who I’ve never seen having an emotion in the two years I’ve known you...

Jim.

My Jim.

... _my_ Jim?!

I reach out my hand to touch your face, slowly, carefully, expecting a rejection at any moment... a rejection which will crush my heart, now so vulnerable without its hard shell... But I can’t _not_...

 

 

_I keep myself from flinching as your hand moves toward my face. I'm afraid when you touch me, I'll disintegrate._

_What have I done...?_

_I can't *do* this._

_I can't let myself be touched by another._

_I can't let myself be moved by another._

_But if I don't..._

_If I don't..._

_The thought of your face if I stop you... (pain)_

_The thought of going to sleep in this tent, having stopped you...(pain)_

_not being able to press against you, feeling myself grow cold again..._

_I feel your hand touch my face and I let you._

_I think I'll disintegrate now, but - it was worth it._

_I close my eyes and hear a small, anguished moan._

_I think it was me._

 

 

Your face screws up and that’s it, the rejection is coming, you’re going to push me away, tell me to stop being stupid...

Any moment now...

Flesh touches flesh.

Flesh moves across flesh, sensitive fingertips exploring shallow stubble on a jaw. Stubble so often felt rasping against self, but never recognized for the ultimate sensory delight it is.

My eyes scrutinize your face, desperate to see a sign, an indication of how you feel about this contact, this gentle exploration of your face without mask...

Your eyes shut, a small mewl escapes from you -

my heart turns into lava, pouring hot and molten through my chest at that little sound. Like a distressed kitten unsure of what is happening and scared to death.

I was protective of you before. It seems to have multiplied indefinitely overnight. Seeing a _vulnerable_ side of you -

oh god Jim poor Jim -

 _poor Jim?!_ When do you ever think those two words together? Jim is on top of the world, ruler of the Commonwealth, the most dangerous man in London, ruthless killer, untouchable...

... except when he wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare and needs help drinking water because he’s shivering too much.

.., except when he _panics_ because he thinks you got badly hurt.

... except when he gets drunk and giggly...

... except now...

He’s lost... he’s so lost...

He’s your responsibility, Sebastian. You got him here. Now help him through it.

I will. Right after I do this...

My lips gently land on yours.

 

 

_Oh, thank the god I don't believe in and all his blasted heavenly hosts..._

_thank the fecking saints and the bloody Virgin, too._

_Your lips on mine are the only thing that makes sense in this place of terror and confusion. All of my equations, all of my flowcharts are falling apart except:_

_Stopping myself from touching Tiger makes us both upset... makes everything fall to pieces._

_Letting myself touch Tiger makes us both warm and... the psychopath equivalent of happy._

_I've been holding myself back all bloody day and it's felt like holding back a tidal wave with a shield. It doesn't matter how strong and mighty the shield is or how it's always worked in the past... this is a tidal wave, and it's just knocked me down, and flooded everything with sensations... *feelings*. I cling to you, and let you take over._

_"Tiger..." I whisper in between kisses. My arms wrap around your neck. "Don't stop... Don't *ever stop*, Tiger..."_

_My head is swimming. I have no idea what I'm saying any more...What am I actually saying??_

_"Don't. Let. It. End." I whisper pleadingly._

 

 

Oh my dear sweet kitten... the imploration not to let it end...

"I will never let this end..." I whisper, without removing my mouth from yours, because breaking contact would be unthinkable.

Gregorian choirs are singing Hallelujah in my head; my heart is racing like I've just run here all the way from Inverness, and my mind is mostly broadcasting white noise.

I'm kissing you. I'm kissing you like I mean it. And you're kissing me like you mean it. Because we do. We both mean it. Somewhere in Scotland a miracle happened. I will forever hail its hallowed grounds, pay homage to its deities, leave offerings for its fae, for whatever magic they wrought to manifest the unthinkable - melting James Moriarty.

I stroke your hair, your neck, your shoulder, pull you close to me - your heart is racing as madly as mine.

There is no location, no situation more perfect than this old army tent in the Scottish rain.

Going camping was the best idea I ever had...

 

 

_This is *romantic*... isn't it? Yes, I’m having a *romantic* experience...!!_

_God, Moriarty will be furious - what is this *incessant* need I have to think of London and what things will be like back in London - I'm done with it. We're not in London, so regular rules didn't apply, and there's nothing to be done for it now. Apparently drinking in Inverness makes you go mental, and camping seals the deal._

_I'm lying on you, kissing you like there's no tomorrow, my hands pressed on either side of your head._

_I don't think I could physically separate myself from you now if an entire herd of wildcats came tearing through the tent. I think I would just keep kissing you and kick them through the tent flap._

_"Sebastian..." I murmur. Even your name feels different on my lips, swollen with your kisses._

 

 

I’ve never heard you say my name like that... so full of longing, with such attention, like every phoneme has a deep and profound meaning, and you’ve only now discovered those, and are in awe.

It heats up every bit of lava that used to be my heart and now is spread all through my chest. You are so out of your depth and need me to guide you through this...

Which makes me panic a bit - I’ve never been in love as an adult, I don’t expect I ever will again. The object of my love is probably the worst one I could have chosen, but there we go. I’ve never been particularly smart in my passions. He definitely has never been in love - or if he has, he’s buried that all even deeper than I have. And now he’s freaking out because of all the new sensations that he’s been avoiding all his life.

... I’ll count it as a win if I leave these woods alive...

But I want more. I want to leave these woods with you, and arrive back in London with you as my partner in some way rather than just my boss.

So, soldier, you have your Mission Impossible set out for you...

Good thing I’m good at those. But I don’t think any the SAS put before me has ever been as impossible and risky as this one...

I stroke you, kiss you, and it looks like you’ve got the point, because you are kissing me like you’re drowning and I’m the sole source of air and you’ll suffocate if you let go for more than a second.

 

 

_I realize we've been naked for quite a while inside this tent - and that seems apropos considering I've never *felt* so naked, so vulnerable, so - exposed. You've *seen*. The face behind the mask. And I'm well aware that this *should* get you killed. But then that would mean *missing* you, and *how dare* you make me dependent on you? How dare you make me *feel* something... anything? I could *kill* you for that. But again, it would hurt *me* to be alone. I'm trapped in a vicious circle of intense feelings of dependence, and desire for retribution._

_But you're kissing me so sweetly, and it makes me want to *die*._

_*God*, how could anything feel so good??_

 

 

I'm not quite sure what to do now. You are clutching at me like you're afraid you'll die if we stop kissing, but we can't keep kissing forever... can we?

I'm enjoying this, don't get me wrong... but I'm also worrying a bit about you and want to check in.

I gently, carefully pull my lips away, look into your deep dark beautiful eyes, stroke your hair.

"Are you ok, Jim? How are you feeling?"

 

 

_I laugh softly. "Mad. Warm. Murderous. Warm. Muddled. Warm. And quite lovely and warm. So as long as the current insanity:bliss ratio remains constant, we should be able to make it out of this forest alive. Otherwise - murder-suicide sound good to you?" I sigh, and lay my head down on your chest._

 

 

"I'd really rather not. I mean, it sounds awfully romantic, but I'm having fun, to be honest." I'm not sure if talking about the confusion is a good idea - it might make it less, or might make it worse...

Oh well, I never was one to go for the safe route...

"Is this confusing to you? Is that why you want to kill me?"

 

 

_I laugh again, this time sadly. "Why do you think, foolish Tiger? Do you have a better suggestion?"_

 

 

"Than killing me? Well. I think that's a very poor suggestion, because I'm the best you've ever had," I grin. "I don't know, Jim... if it helps, I'm as lost as you are. I have never been in love before... not since my teens, and that didn't last long." I wince. _Don't think about that, Sebastian..._ "I really don't know what I'm supposed to do, or feel... I just feel that I want to be close to you, and make you feel better... is there anything I can do except dying to make you feel more at ease?"

 

 

_I catch the wince. Huh. Interesting. Something happened, bigger than just a bad breakup. Something that was so huge for you that it likely was the source of your insatiable drive to go from person to person and Never. Slow. Down. I'm the last person who would pry into someone's emotional wounds, but I can't help but be curious. Maybe you'll tell me one day. One day - well, that implies that neither of us will die today in the woods, doesn't it. Not only that, but we'll have this 'one day' together? The thought makes my heart leap and squeeze painfully at the same time. God, that's disorienting... my brow furrows as I ponder the conundrum I find myself in._

_"Anything except dying," I muse. "I don't know; someone dying has always been the solution to any problem... and it's never failed to put me at ease." I watch you closely. You smile at me wryly._

_You're not even the least bit afraid, are you. You know I'm fully capable of making a rash decision like murdering you in the woods because I feel *uncomfortable*. And yet, you're lying underneath me naked in a tent, as if - as if - I don't know how to finish that thought without putting you more at risk of death in the woods._

_"Sebastian, Sebastian... what on earth am I going to do with you?" I sigh. "Other than burying you in a shallow grave, I mean... Yes, you are certainly the best at everything, professionally and otherwise - or we wouldn't be having this conversation..."_

 

 

"I'm gutted I only warrant a shallow grave," I grin. "I'll be dug up and devoured by wildcats... good thing I wear my dog tags so they can identify my body and notify my parents, who will be inconsolable for simply _minutes_."

I joke, but I did see that look on your face - you _could_ kill me. But it doesn't scare me - honestly, if I had to be scared of you killing me, I'd never get a moment's rest. You are a killer, it's as natural as breathing for you, and you're never more than a hair's breadth away from murder. I've thought you'd kill me so often in the past - when I let my mouth run away with me, when I put my foot down in defiance, when I shouted at you in anger - and I've seen you look way more murderous than now; yet somehow I'm still alive.

I _probably_ could stop you if you wanted to kill me - probably. You're fast and mean, but I'm an expert. But I haven't had cause to test this theory thus far.

I stroke your hair. "We will get to kill people tomorrow, and then we're going back to civilization, both should make you feel better..."

Though I have to admit I'm terrified of said return to civilization... will the enchantment wear off? Will you withdraw back into your comfortable ivory tower with the cast-iron gates?

 

 

_"Hmm... murder and civilization. Perhaps you're right... " I say slowly. Perhaps... although returning to civilization has its own set of problems. Being stuck in the tent made all manner of creepy crawly truths come out - yours and mine. At home, it'll be back to work to distract me - and where does that leave us? *Is* there an us? Or - does that fade when we leave the woods? Like the fairy tales when you leave a magical realm with jewels - when you cross the border to the mundane realm, you end up with a pocketful of coal, or ash. Am I equating you and what we experienced to a *jewel*? My god, the woods make me sweet and poetic - murder threats aside._

_Well, assuming I can let you live - would it be a relief to have things return to normal? I shift uncomfortably._

_I don't want a pocketful of coal._

_I don't *want* what we experienced to turn to ash..._

 

_"Cards!" I say suddenly, remembering. "I brought cards! You want to live to see morning? Distract me. I like games. We could play poker, and - instead of betting money, we could bet other things - kind of like truth or dare. Like, a bet could be a kiss, or answering a question, or whatever we want. It could even be something payable when we get back home. If the person doesn't want to risk losing that bet, they'll have to fold. Well, Tiger?"_

 

 

You seem delighted and relieved at the thought of playing cards and at this moment I'd enter a limbo dancing competition if it made you happy. Also, at cards we're quite well matched - you're a genius but you're no Rain Man; and though you can read my mind at most other times you can't see through my poker face when it comes to actual poker. And it'll be good to get our minds off - the situation, and just have some innocent fun for a bit.

"Sure," I smile. "Would you like some more wine?" Alcohol is always good to lessen tension, and you're taut as a violin string at the moment. I walk outside into the still pouring rain and get a bottle of wine and a bottle of beer from the stream. I'm feeling quite inappropriately playful when I get back into the tent, so instead of drying myself off, I pounce on you and pull you over, pressing my wet body on top of your nice warm and dry one.

 

 

_"Tiger!" I yell in outrage, trying to pull away. You don't let me, and shake your wet hair at me._

_I sputter. "You know, when I'm trying to decide if I should kill you, it may not be the best time to *soak* me!" I shout._

_You start to apologize, and then rub your wet face against mine._

_In the middle of shrieking at you, I find myself hitting you with the closest thing I can find - a bag of marshmallows against your face._

_We stare at each other, and then both grab for it. I elbow you and roll away with the bag, then pelt your face with marshmallows. Like the soldier you are, you brave my assault and lunge at me. As I scream blue murder, you grab the bag and shove a marshmallow into my open mouth._

_"You are so dead, Tiger !" I growl but it comes out more like 'Yrr so deh, Tah-grr!' which of course makes you laugh uproariously. Then I lunge at you, and we’re both howling with laughter. I squash a marshmallow into your lips. You grin and say "Share?" with an innocent look and a marshmallow half in your mouth. I snicker and take the other half in mine, and then we're kissing around a marshmallow, which is the weirdest sensation ever, but I no longer want to kill you. For the moment._

_And you obviously can tell, because you pull away and smirk at me as you chew. "Fess up, Jim. You'd miss me."_

_I roll my eyes as I swallow my half. "Is that what you think? You're wildly over-confident, darling. Now shut up and deal..." I take the cards out of my bag, and throw them at you._

 

 

... see, Sebastian, this is why it's unlikely you'll reach retirement age.

However, in the Great Marshmallow Battle of the Cairngorms, I emerge victorious, and am rewarded with a marshmallow kiss, which is oddly pleasant, and my demise is postponed for now as I have a deck of cards thrown at me.

I grin at you, shuffle the deck, deal the cards.

"So - what are the stakes for the first game?"

 

 

_Hmmm... so many possibilities._

_“The Awesome Dance. Outside by the fire. To Eye of the Tiger. And I get to record it on my phone.”_

 

 

"oooooh... those are some _high_ stakes. Will I be dressed for this?"

 

 

_“What do you think?” I arch an eyebrow. “And if you win, what would you like?”_

 

 

"A fair game calls for equal stakes - the same." I grin.

 

 

_“What? I don’t think so. Choose something else…_

 

 

I laugh at that - "What, are you _chickening?_ What's good for the goose is good for the gander, Jim... I'd love to see you do the Awesome Dance..."

 

 

_I heave a sigh. “Fine. Awesome Dance, with clothing. No recording. *If* it happens, all knowledge of it goes to your grave...” I reach out my hand. “I’m going to need alcohol...”_

 

 

I raise my eyebrow. Fairness has never been part of your vocabulary, has it, Jim? But - the mere thought of you doing the Awesome Dance to Eye of the Tiger - clothed or not - makes me grin broadly. I will _have_ to win this round...

 

 

_Oh god... what have I agreed to?_

_I shake my hand at you. "Still waiting for my wine..." I say, covering my nerves with exasperation._

_You pour some wine for me, looking damn smug considering we haven't even been dealt our hands yet._

_This is ridiculous... I'm a bloody psychopath. *Nothing* is supposed to shake me - at least, until this weekend. It's bad enough I've been falling apart left, right and centre, but now... I'm anxious about a poker game? And *the Awesome Dance*??_

_God, Jim - you *cannot lose this game*... I *forbid* it._

_You deal, and I snatch my cards up._

_*Fuck*._

 

 

My cards are promising enough. It would be epic if I were to win this.

 

The Awesome Dance was born when you recorded me dancing cockily to a car radio blasting Eye of the Tiger. I really hammed it up and when I looked at the recording later I nearly fell over laughing... You love it and love to get me to repeat the performance.

Which is alright... but getting _you_ to do it would be a highlight of my - probably ending soon afterwards - life.

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t fold with that hand,” I grin as you are dressing yourself with a face like thunder.

 

 

_"Shut your gob... and pour me more wine if you know what's good for you," I snap, holding out my cup._

_You watch in amusement, as I pour cup after cup down my throat. After this morning, I thought I would never drink again. But I need to be off my arse to do this, or I genuinely fear for your safety. I reach my cup out to you for another refill._

_"Are you sure you want - " you start._

_"Are you sure you want to see another sunrise?" I snarl, and you promptly hand me another full cup._

_You watch as I drink it, then pointedly hold the bottle upside down. "Are you sufficiently fortified, Jim? Or do I need to fetch you another bottle?"_

_I start to feel warm tingles moving through me. I hiccup, and then giggle in surprise._

_"Fuck it. Let's do this... light my fire, Tiger! Let me know when my stage is ready for me, and I'll come out and show you something that no one's ever seen - nor will ever see again until the end of time." I push you out of the tent, and cue up Eye of the Tiger on my phone._

 

 

I gather some dry wood and get the fire going again, thanking the gods of Scotland that it's stopped raining. I would never have been able to convince you to do this sober...

As the fire is suitably flaming, I turn around - you’re still in the tent.

"Dvvvd - dvvd dvvd dvvd - dvvd dvvd dvvd - dvvd dvvd dvvvvvvvd..." I hum.

 

 

_I hear the crackle of the fire. You're humming your song. I guess that's my cue._

_This is so fucking stupid..._

_Good thing I'm plastered... again. Waking up with another hangover and having to ride on a motorcycle to a killing spree is *way* less daunting than performing The Awesome Dance sober..._

_Jesus Christ... I'm thoroughly incensed, but giggling helplessly. Thank you, alcohol..._

_Before I can think the better of it, I press play on my phone._

_When the opening notes start, I throw open the tent flap and stalk out like only an eighties rock star could. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to fucking own it, Sebastian Moran..._

 

 

Oh god Jim - never change...

I had expected this to be a laugh but I can’t help being impressed - you always love making an entrance, and you always slay it, even if you’re in the middle of nowhere striding out of an old army tent to dance for your bodyguard.

I whoop and cheer at the cockiest walk anyone has ever walked, and wish I had negotiated recording this.

 

 

_I've always been an attention whore... usually I go with threats, domination and murder, but posturing and dancing to ridiculous songs is without a doubt up my alley - the yelling and cheering only spur me on. Oh Tiger... you thought this would just be funny, but I have a feeling you're never going to forget this..._

_The musical intro goes on and on, so there is plenty of time to stalk through the campsite and build drama. I settle into a crouch in front of you before the lyrics begin. You're grinning like a maniac._

 

Risin' up, back on the street

Did my time, took my chances

 

_Then I'm slowly winding up like a serpent, staring you down and rolling my shoulders. You look surprised and delighted - well, I'm not going to do the Awesome Dance *all the way through*, am I - where's the drama in that? Don't worry, Tiger - I'll wait for just the right moment..._

 

Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet

Just a man and his will to survive

 

_I roll my hips, plant my feet and strike a pose with one arm behind my shoulder, and my head thrown back._

_Oh god - this song is relevant, isn't it. This is actually happening - I'm vibing to Eye of the Tiger..._

 

So many times, it happens too fast

You trade your passion for glory

 

_I whip out of sight, circling around you. You involuntarily turn your head to follow me, and I appear suddenly before you, shaking my finger at you. Your smile broadens to full Tiger mode - all teeth and adorable charm. (Wait - what?)_

 

Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past

You must fight just to keep them alive

 

_I grip your arm, give you an impassioned look._

_My other hand grips your arm, and I jerk my head back as my face fills with burning fervour._

 

_Here we go..._

_The Awesome Dance - tonight only. Enjoy it while you can, Sebbie..._

 

It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight

Risin' up to the challenge of our rival

 

_I mimic your movements, but for my expression I forego overt goofiness in favour of smouldering 80's intensity._

_Your mouth drops open, and I've never seen such a look of pure delight on anyone’s face - ever._

 

And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night

And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger

 

_I finish the chorus moving two fingers in front of my eyes, and then pointing dramatically at you._

_You look like you're going to fall over in the dirt._

_I could just finish there, but I'm enjoying watching your responses too much to stop. Let's just push on through to the end, shall we?_

 

 

Oh. My. God.

This is the best performance EVER. And the poor world is missing it. It's just a tiger in a Scottish forest witnessing what should be drawing crowds into West-End theatres.

You are _such_ a performer, it's in your blood, and tacky eighties music fits you perfectly - you usually go for the more poppy sounds, but this ham-it-up favourite of wrestlers everywhere is remarkably suited to your drama queen.

And there is the Awesome Dance - looking awesome indeed performed by the most handsome man on earth...

(stop it Seb - you're having a laugh! You will _not_ go all dewy-eyed over the fucking _Awesome Dance!_ )

It is - a thing of intense beauty. Your face, your movements, the song... it's _so_ over the top, but it _so_ fits you - over the top is your middle name. It's hilarious, fascinating, and without a doubt worth whatever you are going to have me do in revenge.

 

 

Face to face, out in the heat

Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry

 

_I bring my face close to yours._

_I make a fist with one hand and grab your shirt with the other._

 

They stack the odds till we take to the street

For the kill with the skill to survive

 

_I writhe towards the ground, my hand moving down your chest._

_Then I jump up, my hands gripping your neck. I give it a quick squeeze before the chorus starts up again._

 

_The Awesome Dance returns, and your eyes light up again._

_You seem mesmerized, like you're trying to record every detail to memory. Wishing you had got me to agree to recording it, Sebastian? Not a chance..._

 

_After the last line, I turn to walk away to the musical interlude._

_Then I throw my head back, raise my arm in the air._

 

Risin' up, straight to the top

Had the guts, got the glory

 

_I spread my arms out wide, opening myself up to be worshipped._

 

Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop

Just a man and his will to survive

 

_Then I stalk quickly towards you, and rake my hands through my hair as I sway my hips._

_You look like you want to drop down at my feet or come on the spot. Either way, the satisfaction is sweet._

 

_The final chorus brings with it the last Awesome Dance, and you seem almost desperate for it to continue. As the song winds down, I move around you letting my hand trail along your face, and down your chest. Then down to your thighs, and up again to your abdomen._

_I move your hands to my sacrum, wrap my arms around your neck then lean back my head and arch my back. I hang here until the song ends, wait a beat, then slowly rise up to face you. My eyes are inches away from yours. I stare you down._

_"Well, darling... you got your wish. Was it all you thought it would be?" I purr._

 

 

I’m beaming.

“That. Was. The BEST thing I’ve ever had the privilege to witness. You missed your true calling - you should be a showman. I mean, you’re a brilliant crime lord, but... wow. That was _amazing_. You should totally stride in to that next time you want to make an Entrance.”

I shake my head. I’m still processing all the awesomeness. Fuck, as if I needed an incentive to fall deeper for you... and as if I’d expect to find you doing the Awesome Dance so irresistible!

Our faces are still close, and you’re still looking at me intensely. I lean forward, place my lips on yours - questing, requesting...

 

 

_I’m motionless, feeling your lips move against mine. I allow it and after a moment, I return the kiss. And here I thought I’d be furious, and storming back into the tent afterwards. But you’re right - this is much more fun. Thanks again, alcohol!_

_My hands float up to your back, and I find myself kissing you dreamily._

_I pull back and look up at the sky. “It’s still not dark, Tiger! Don’t you wanna wait for stars?” I ask, sounding rather tipsy. I don’t know why I’m fixated on this having sex under the stars idea... why does it feel so important to stick to this plan? Yet another thing I don’t remember about last night..._

_“And if I was going to choose any theme song to make an entrance to, do you really think it would be Eye of the Tiger?” I giggle. “That’s *your* song, baby...”_

_*Baby*?? Where did *that* come from? Did you call me that last night? (And did I secretly *like* it...?)_

 

 

Mmmm... kissing you is something I’ll never get enough of...

Yes, we were going to make love under the stars, weren’t we...

In the meantime, you’re getting drunk again, and it’s too adorable for words. Is that a thing? Falling for drunk crime lords? Ebrionefarophilia?

“I’m hardly one to make an entrance... it might bore our clients a bit if they had to sit through first you coming in strutting it to Queen and then me doing Survivor and then Steve moving like Jagger to the Stones...” I imitate Steve dancing and you giggle in an illegally cute way.

“While we have the fire going again, do you want to roast some more marshmallows and make proper s’mores?”

 

 

_I fall against you, laughing. "If we each want an entrance to a theme song, clients can just sit there and take it. I'm thinking 'Killer Queen' will be mine - not one of their big hits, but we shouldn't be *too* obvious, should we?" I wrap my arms around your neck, and throw my head back. "Standards, darling..." I whisper._

_When I look back at you, you're gazing at me in a way that's making feel warm... *deliciously* warm. In the back of my mind I recognize that it's a *terrible* idea not to nip this mutual crush in the bud - but with all this alcohol in my system, I've turned into something of a flirt-monster._

_"Yes to Flaming Marshmallows: The Sequel. I'll try very hard not to throw them at you, Tiger..." I say in a coy voice and start to nibble your neck._

 

 

“You are a Killer Queen... that’s the perfect entrance song for you. Or leaving song... after everyone is dead, striding out to it...”

... and then you’re nibbling my neck and every thought goes out of my head.

Apparently human tigers can purr... or at least make a very happy sound low in their throat that expresses exquisite delight...

And then you bite my neck and the purr changes into a groan...

 

 

_"Exit song," I muse, after removing my teeth from your neck. I raise your head to look at the teeth marks... press my fingers against them, touch my tongue to the tiny grooves. "Of *course*, it's the exit song - how did you get to be such a clever thing?" I return to biting you, and you're making the sweetest growling sounds - I want to tear through your throat to set them free._

_You press against me, grabbing my arse._

_"We're waiting for those sleepy stars to wake up and shine for us, darling -" I say, looking up at the sky, my arms around your neck. "Though I couldn't tell you why... do you r'member anything about it? We've already spilled such terrible secrets in these woods, and may not live to see the light of day... you may as well tell me. Did I promise you the stars?" I ask, gazing up at you through my eyelashes._

 


	7. The Birds and the Bees

Bites bites bites... delicious bites, making my knees weak, my heart beat faster, my cock twitch, my hands roam over your back to pull you closer, wanting you to claim me, drink me in, pull you inside me...

“You asked if there was anything I wanted that we’d never done... I said I wanted to make love under the stars...”

Oh yes did I say that out loud?

 

 

_My eyes widen. My mouth falls open. When I try to speak, only a rusty sound flies out._

_You said *that*?? What did I say in response?? I must have agreed to it, I’m the one who keeps bringing it up!! Did I find the prospect... intriguing? Not terrifying??_

_I’m staring at you in shock, my arms still around your neck. For a moment, I imagine sliding my hands around your neck and squeezing hard, but I let the image fall away._

_It’s a good thing I’m drunk for this, I realize - it was wise of you not to share until now. But now that I know - what do I do??_

_“It must have been quite a night,” I manage to say, my voice wavering. “And I agreed?! The only thing is... I don’t know what the fuck to do! Are you going to do it?”_

 

 

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?” I ask perplexed. “Do I need to explain about the birds and the bees?”

 

 

_“Tiger, I swear to Christ...” I start to imagine my hands around your neck again. “You tell me you want to *make love under the stars*... it’s not exactly in my repertoire. You want to fuck like animals, be whipped, be cut into... I’m your man. You want sweetness and tenderness...? Then you need to show me how that goes... it was your idea!”_

 

 

Oh... yes it is a bit of an odd way of formulating it, I guess... but I was in a romantic mood last night...

Mind you, your suggestions sound rather appealing as well...

“We could do both... I show you how to sweetly and tenderly make love under the stars; you show me how you whip, cut, and fuck someone far away from civilization where no one will hear my screams...” I murmur into your neck, carefully nibbling.

 

 

_I close my eyes, as you nibble your way along my neck. “I didn’t bring any whips...” I complain. “You wouldn’t let me bring *anything*... what am I supposed to use, a tree branch?”_

 

 

“You’ve never whipped anyone with a switch? Yes, you use a tree branch. And before you get pissed off, no, I’ve never been whipped with a tree branch either... but it does sound fucking hot... “ I purr into your ear.

 

 

_“Of course I haven’t whipped anyone with a switch! When would I have had the occasion? And why would I have, when there are beautiful Italian leather implements to purchase?”_

_I imagine whipping your naked body with a tree branch, and it does sound hot. “I believe the tradition is that the person has to go find their own switch? So you have your task to complete. You can show me how to be sweet first - I suspect I’ll have some shit to work out after...” I smile to myself, and then hear myself giggling again. When we get back to London, are we going to have to spend all our time together drunk??_

 

 

"Is it really so hard for you to be sweet?" I wonder out loud. Yes, that's a great question to ask Jim Moriarty... I put my hand behind your head, kiss you sweetly, feel you kiss me back, so gently, so softly...

"See, you're very good at it... what's so difficult about it for you?"

 

 

_I blink in confusion. "I've never been *sweet*, not since... very young, anyway. I didn't think I *could* be. It seems like a *bad idea* for everyone all around... like it's a volatile state. And the only reason I'm not suffering a meltdown is all that delicious wine. Is there any more?"_

 

 

You will get all the wine you need. Drunk Moriarty is quickly becoming my favourite Moriarty. Will I have to turn you into an alcoholic to retain my access to your nice side? Not sure if that's an approved bodyguard tactic...

"There's nothing volatile about being sweet... You're not going to have a meltdown. You're fine, you're doing great - I think you could be a magnificent sweet person. It'd be our little secret..." I whisper in your ear before I get up to get you some more wine from the stream, pick up a beer for myself.

When I get back I point to the sky, between the trees. "Look, Jim... the stars are out."

 

 

_My heart slams in my chest. I don't think you're right about sweetness not being volatile... it feels like the most dangerous thing a man like me can possibly do. But I seem incapable of clear thought (blame the alcohol) or turning you down (blame this infernal crush), so... where does that leave me? Shivering when you whisper in my ear... feeling shy and nervous when you point out the stars... Oh *hell, no*. Jim Moriarty does not do shy and nervous._

_I reach out and pluck the bottle from your hand before you've had a chance to pour. I drink deeply and pass it to you. "Drink up, darling... tonight I think we're both going to need it."_

 

 

I raise my beer. "I'll stick to this, thank you... My dad said that sweet wine is for people who'd really rather be drinking squash, and for once, I agree with the old bastard. No offence, of course... You should have heard what he said about beer. Somehow _that_ only encouraged me to rebel by drinking it as much as I could... alright, my alcoholic tastes have not really been influenced by my family, I just prefer beer. However..."

I move over, pluck the bottle from your hand, take a swig, the sweet tang filling my mouth, then lean over you, put my mouth on yours, and slowly let the liquid seep out between my lips.

 

 

_Oh god... that's so intense... We've only just begun, and I'm already feeling swept away. I drink from your lips, feeling far more drunk from your touch than the mouthful of wine... my hand moves to your face, and I lick the wine from your lips, then slip my tongue back into your mouth._

 

 

Your tongue exploring my mouth makes me want to melt, and I groan very softly. I want to lie down, but the ground is wet, so I reluctantly break off for a moment to tear open two bin liners, spread them on the ground, and grab a sleeping bag from the tent to go on top. Beautiful. I light another mosquito coil to repel any intrusive critters, then kneel down, reach out my hand to you, and you join me on this sleeping bag beside the fire, our love nest under the stars, the closest thing to paradise that I can imagine.

I may be getting a bit drunk too, but who cares... we are young, we are free, we are in the midst of the Cairngorms, and we're about to learn how psychopaths make sweet love.

 

 

_When you give me your hand, I feel like we’re characters in a film... the kind of film men like us don’t watch. Unless you watch them in secret? What else do I not know about you?_

_I hesitate only for a moment before taking your hand and being pulled down next to you - it’s remarkably enchanting lying with you amidst trees and stars... I look up at you, feeling tentative. I do not feel like myself *at all*. But maybe I'm tired of being myself. The wine is making my mind deliciously numb... thoughts are slowing down... and suddenly it seems like a very good idea to reach for you and to touch your hair, and then your face. And then to look into your eyes and whisper, “Kiss me, Tiger” and to move closer so you can do just that._

 

 

You stroke me, looking at me with such sweet and focused eyes, like you are trying to commit every detail of my face to memory, or maybe like you're trying to get me to have one pair of eyes instead of two - but no, you don't seem that drunk yet. But so infinitely sweet... it's not fair, Jim... How can you make me fall in love with you and then act so incredibly sweet, so I only fall deeper and deeper?

I am getting lost in those dark pools of infinity, drowning like a man condemned to bliss, and then you whisper - whisper! - 'kiss me Tiger' and I think I'm melting straight through the sleeping bag.

Oh god Jim, sweet Jim, beautiful Jim, my Jim...

My Jim? Come on Seb, don't get too carried away... ownership in this relationship is very firmly one-sided...

You're mine tonight though. And you're trying to be sweet, you're really doing your best, for _me_ , which is incredibly adorable...

I kiss you as sweetly as I can, my lips softly on yours, my tongue gently licking your bottom lip, requesting access, my hand stroking your hair, your neck...

"Are you alright my dear?" Can I use terms of endearment with you? You do it all the time, but they're usually sarcastic. "You're not cold?"

 

 

_“No... I’m not cold...”_

 

_Nothing could be farther from what I feel... the warmth moving through me is simultaneously comforting and alarming. Like it could burn up everything I am, reduce me to a pile of ash..._

_Your desire to *make love under the stars* is still reverberating in me. Jesus, Tiger - what have you *done*. Alarm bells haven’t stopped ringing since you expressed it. If *anyone else* had dared to speak those words to me, I think I would have slashed their throat on principle. Or strangled them. Something *hands-on* to make a point - as if to say, you want intimacy, honey? Oh, let me look deeply into your eyes... let me say with a quivering chin, ‘I’ve never felt this way before!’ Then let me bite my lip and whisper... ‘There's something I want to give to you...’ and deliver the gift of a lifetime. Oh, and I have *so much* Moriarty to give..._

_These are the thoughts passing through my psychopathic brain as we kiss and caress... as you make me sigh longingly... breathe deeply... make tiny sounds in my throat... so why do *you* get a pass, Tiger? It’s always been in the back of my mind, since we started our dalliance. I’ve never looked too closely at it - which could be seen as an answer in itself, I suppose._

_I didn’t want to look, Tiger._

_Because I’m afraid of what I’ll find..._

_Involuntarily, I find myself taking a breath and looking deeply into your eyes._

 

 

You're so soft and sweet and unlike Jim - it's like a dream, being here in the forest, with the crackle of the fire and the occasional hoot of an owl, you caressing, kissing, sighing as if you've been doing it all your life. My sweet Jim...

You pull back, breathe in, look into my eyes like you expect to find the answers to all the questions that have been plaguing you tonight in them. And I look back, into the infinite pools, the flames reflected in them, looking otherworldly, like my own personal demon lord, come to earth to torment me... and torment me you do, physically, mentally, and now you've taken possession of my heart as well... whatever happened to demons just being after your soul, and offering you generous earthly rewards for it?

I look back - I have no idea what you see in my eyes, but I'm trying to convey all the longing I have for you, on all levels, through this ocular medium...

 

 

_And as we lock eyes, I feel you reaching deep into me... pulling away the lifetime of armour surrounding my heart... and pouring into it._

_*Staining* it with Tiger stripes..._

_Fuck..._

_I can barely breathe as I gaze at you. I struggle to inhale, and my chest hurts as I do. My muscles spasm, my heart seizes..._

_I manage to draw in a long, shaky breath._

_*This* is what I've been avoiding..._

_*This* is what I've been fearing..._

_*FUCK*..._

_I've been *feeling* something for my bodyguard... for some time. *Me*!!_

 

 

You’re staring at me like I’m a rare book written in some ancient tongue in which you expect to find pure unadulterated truth, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for it. I don’t know what you see in my eyes, Jim, but you’re looking... shocked, panicked almost -

My primary instinct is, has always been, _protect Jim_. But now Jim looks like he needs protection from - me? How do I protect you when you’re looking at me like I terrify you?

I stroke your hair, gently, softly, like you’re a shy baby deer and I don’t want you to run away. And I _really_ don’t want you to run away...

“Jim... it’s ok Jim,” I whisper. I hope that it’s alright to show that I saw - I hope it’s not going to make you close up and run - oh god please -

“It’s just me. It’s just Sebastian. Your Tiger. I’m yours, Jim, you know that. I am whatever you want me to be. Whatever you need... It’s alright.”

Was that the right thing to say? Not patronizing? How do you not scare away the man you love who is incapable of loving?

Maybe I should start reading girl’s magazines... they might have articles on this kind of thing...

 

 

_Feeling shaky, I reach for the wine bottle to try and numb myself. As I drink, some wine dribbles from the corner of my mouth, and you lean in and lick it from my skin. Warmth flares through my body and my heart. That does not feel *anything* like numbness. Fuck._

_I stare at you long and hard, trying to reassemble my armour. You smile at me questioningly, and my heart melts. FuckFuck*FUCK*!_

_I find myself sitting up, pulling you up with me... sitting on your lap, facing you and wrapping my legs around your waist, and my arms around your neck._

_I take another drink of wine._

_Fine._

_*FINE*._

_I close my eyes._

_I feel my heart pounding._

_"I think maybe... it's more than a crush, Tiger..." I say softly, and press my forehead to yours._

 

 

...

my mind goes blank as my heart races.

...

_more than a crush_

...

What does that _mean?!_

(Well what do you think it means?)

I don't _know!_

(Oh fuck off Moran...)

No seriously - _Jim?!_

(He's human too, you know...)

No he's not. Not emotionally. He doesn't do this stuff.

Oh god - is this -

You're not _playing_ with me, are you??

(You're paranoid.)

I wish I were. It wouldn't be the first time you've convinced me of something only to then laugh at my gullibility.

(He's drunk. Not even he can act so well when drunk.)

If only that were true... You're the best actor I know, regardless of circumstances. You could make anyone believe anything.

(Sebastian.)

What?

(It doesn't matter.)

_What!?_

(Would you let the chance that this is actually _happening_ , that _James fucking Moriarty_ is falling in love with you, slip?)

Well...

(Well?)

No. No fucking way. No never.

(There you go then.)

 

And you are still sitting there while I am fighting with myself in my mind, and you are in unfamiliar territory and need me to guide you through it, and I don't have the _first_ clue about _any_ of this, but I'm more qualified than you to deal with this I guess - and _protect Jim_ is still my priority, but I have no idea how and from what...

 

And I'd better do or say something right about now, because I don't want you to feel uncomfortable...

 

"Jim..." I say, holding you close, not looking you in the eyes.

"I don't know what's happening to either of us. But... I'll always be here. Support you... in whatever you need. I don't know how to do this either, Jim... I've never had to deal with this kind of thing. But... I'm on your side. Always."

 

Was that a good speech? Did that make sense? I don't know - but I'm holding you close and I'm never letting you go. The forest can come down around us, the fire consume us, herds of elks appear to trample us, and I'll hold on to you.

Jim.

My Jim.

 

 

_I exhale a breath I didn't even know that I was holding, and lay my head on your shoulder. I don't think I've ever felt so... vulnerable. Normally it would go very badly for anyone who made me feel this way, but... the things you're saying, Tiger!! How do you know exactly the right thing to say?_

_(Because he's meant for you.)_

_Oh god... stop talking!_

_(No really... he's perfect for you.)_

_A perfect *what*?_

_(Partner, I think they're called...)_

_*Partner*? I don't need one of those... I don't need *anyone*._

_(Is that what you tell yourself when he puts you back together after a nightmare, watches over you when you melt down, protects you, insists you eat, makes you laugh? And why have you been clinging to him all weekend, and snogging like there's no tomorrow?)_

_..._

_(Eejit.)_

_I don't know how to do that!! Have a partner? Be a partner? It's stupid. It's impossible. It's *impossibly stupid*._

_(*You're* impossibly stupid. Look into his eyes.)_

_No! I won't!_

_(Look into his eyes, *then* tell me what's impossible.)_

_I hesitate... then pull back to look at you, if only to shut the traitorous voice up._

_You look at me searchingly, hopefully, adoringly... I can't imagine not having these eyes to look into..._

_Oh god... you're *meant for me*??_

_And - the only thing that's impossible is *not* being with you after seeing that!_

_..._

_Mind-numbing terror hovers over me waiting to tear me to shreds, but I think of what you said - that you would always be here. That you would give me whatever I need. That you're always on my side._

_I believe you._

_If there's anything in this world I trust in, it's your loyalty and devotion._

_Huh. interesting..._

_"This thing that's happening..." I say slowly. "I'd have what I had before... but with *this*, too?" I gesture at myself sitting in your lap, wrapped around you._

_You nod, looking like you're trying very hard not to spook me and not to get your hopes up._

_Aww... my sweet Tiger..._

_(Yeah... you're definitely not feeling that word you keep avoiding...)_

_*Shut*. *Up*._

_"Well, I like *this*..." I say, considering. "And no one's more surprised than me! You know, Sebastian - this entire weekend, I've been thinking things would go back to normal when we returned home... but I'm beginning to suspect I've been fooling myself. I believe that in two short days, events have transpired to lay waste to my cold, unfeeling ways - at least, when it comes to you._

_In short, I'm *ruined* as the perfect psychopath - broken beyond repair! And it's *all your fault*! So what do you intend to do about this, Tiger?"_

_I slowly slide my arms around your shoulders, bringing my face closer to yours and looking deeply into your eyes._

 

 

... Jim?

... Jim Moriarty?

... James Moriarty?!?

Did I bring the right psychopath into the woods?

Are you actually saying what it sounds like you're saying?

That you're... no longer cold and unfeeling about me? And you expect that this will last after we're... out of the woods, as it were?

"I don't doubt that you're still the perfect psychopath. I can't imagine any better one... and no one will ever know. I sure won't tell anyone that you may not be cold and unfeeling 24/7.

And what I intend to do is bugger all. I _really like_ this secret Jim that no one ever sees but me. _Really, really_ like him. If I can tell you a secret..." I look around, lean in conspiratorially, "I think I've even fallen in love with him..."

 

 

_What is the sound of a paradigm being smashed? This is no Zen koan, but a cataclysmic cerebral event that occurs the instant you speak those words... time seems to have stopped and I've entered some sort of infinite moment. The sound just goes on and on, like glass shattering in all directions for eternity. Uh... is this my existence now? Pure consciousness unfolding for fucking ever? Somehow focusing on it pulls me out of the seismic shift happening in the bedrock of my psyche... and I find myself gazing at you like a simpleton. Or someone in love? *Same difference, Jim!* I think snidely. Wait, what did I just-??_

_And now I find myself falling off your lap in a heap of giggles because a) all the wine has kicked in and I'm properly wasted... and b) in what universe does this happen?? Jim Moriarty does not go camping in the Scottish wilderness and fall in love!! It *does not happen*. But it's happening right now!! Oh, those bloody non-existent faeries must be laughing their *arses* off. Fuck me..._

_I look up and see you look first confused, and then frozen with fear._

_Oh - do you think I'm taking the piss? Not surprising... God, I'm such a shit._

_I wave my hand at you, trying desperately to stop laughing. "No - not - a joke, Tiger... oh god... " I struggle to catch my breath. You look like you're trying to decide whether to run off crying or punch me._

_"*Jim*..." you say, slowly straightening up._

_Fuck. Why am I panicking? How very *odd*..._

_"No - I'm not joking - Sebastian, I -" I'm practically hyperventilating as I try to take in a breath, and your hurt expression is covered by a cold, furious mask._

_"*Fuck*, Sebastian! I love you, too! Don't go!!"_

_Once again, glass shatters in all directions for eternity..._

 

 

I hold my breath when I say the L-word again - it feels so vulnerable opening up to you like this, but you're being so sweet, so genuine...

 

... and you fall off my lap laughing.

 

Fuck.

 

FUCK.

 

_FUCK!!!_

 

Oh you fucking _bastard_ , Jim Moriarty!

You utter, fucking, vile, cruel, _monster!!!_

 

Having a good laugh at my expense? Fooled your stupid, slow, thick Tiger again? Oh it's so funny, making the normal people dance for you, isn't it?! It's _so easy_ to pull the strings, make them jump. Just pull a face, put on a show, and they'll be eating out of your hand - so _funny!!!_

I can't believe I fell for it - again!

My heart, opened up before you, is being slowly torn into two pieces by cold robotic hands, their metal fingers digging in, pulling, tearing flesh, breaking veins, arteries, capillaries, blood spilling everywhere, into my stomach, making it churn...

I can't do this any more. I can't. I know I'm yours, I could never leave you, but - maybe I must - maybe I have no choice -

I have to get away from you _now_ , definitely, away from that laughter that is cutting through every nerve in my body, like shards of ice-cold glass. I get up, my legs feeling like cardboard, like they won't be able to support me, but if they can just support me enough to get out of this clearing, into the woods –

 

You're still talking to me, what are you even talking about, it's not funny, Jim, it's never been funny, none of your fucking jokes have ever been fucking funny-

 

_LOVE_

 

The word pierces through all the noise in my head, shatters the glass shards cutting my nerves, blasts through the robot hands -

reaches my heart, which starts burning, before it reaches my brain -

I'm frozen to the spot, half upright, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to _think_ -

 

I am staring at you, blinking.

 

You didn't.

You didn't just.

You didn't just say.

 

You can't.

You never.

You wouldn't.

 

Not a joke.

Not a joke?

Not a joke!?

 

This is too much. My poor normal-person brain can't cope with all this. My heart is racing, my blood pumping, I feel my face getting flushed, then pale. My nails are digging into my palms.

 

Jim.

You're looking at me, lost, panicking.

 

It's that which shakes me out of my stupor -

Jim is in trouble. He needs me.

 

I fall to my knees in front of you. Look you into the eyes, your eyes, large, scared -

 

I need to know.

 

"If it's not a joke, why did you laugh?"

 

Convince me. You have one chance. Before I break your nose and run into the forest, never to return.

 

 

_"Because! Because, because!!" My brain appears to have frozen, and is in serious need of a reboot - and there's no time, there's *no time* because you're going to run away, you're going to *run away* and I thought I was being melodramatic but you're really going to do it aren't you..._

_I grab onto you, hold on for dear life. Come *on*, genius - you can do this..._

_"*Because*..." I repeat, stupidly. Oh, *great* start, Jim..._

_"I'm *so feckin' drunk*, Tiger... And - I don't know what happened, do I?! Yeh said yeh *loved me* and den - it's like the universe got feckin' turned inside out in my brain, and when it was done... I *felt it*," I say in wonder and terror. "But - how, Tiger? How is this possible?" I start shivering uncontrollably._

_"Oh god..." I whisper. "Don't leave me all alone like dis - please - "_

_(Pull yourself together, Jim... I don't fancy a meltdown in the woods - I think there's something infinitely preferable we could be doing with a Tiger under the stars...)_

_I draw myself up to my knees, look into your eyes and take a deep breath. "I know yeh have no reason t'believe me... but I swear t'you, I wasn't making fun..." I say hoarsely. "Don't go, Tiger... stay with me..."_

_Urgently I take your face in my hands. "Stay with me..." I breathe._

 

 

You look absolutely panicked - it’s really astounding how you can look so genuine -

or are you...

You seem to be struggling for words, which is not like you...

... and your accent is coming out, which is _definitely_ not like you...

 

I don’t know what to _do!_ What to believe - you’re such a fucking good actor and you’re bastard enough to fool me - but fuck, _look_ at you... _why_ do you have to be who you are?! Wherefore art thou Moriarty?! How will I _ever_ be able to trust you?

You’re shivering, begging me not to leave you... like I _could_... like I could ever turn my back on that scared desperate face... act or no...

If it’s a scam, Jim, if you’re faking it to have a laugh, I swear to god, I _will_ beat you to within an inch of your life, and I _will_ leave you.

But if it’s not...

if it’s not...

Oh my god, Jim...

 

You say you know I have no reason to believe you; and somehow that convinces me more than anything else. If you were playing, you’d give me reasons... but you really seem at a loss.

 

You’re begging me to stay and I couldn’t, couldn’t ever, leave you... What is it about you that fires up every protective instinct I have? As well as so many other instincts...

Baseline is, I’m not getting away from you unless I get myself killed, am I... you fucker. What did you do to me, demon from hell?

What are you doing to me now?

There’s no way I can do anything but give in... hold you, kiss you, love you... and pray to whatever god is magnanimous enough to care about guys like you and me that this is genuine...

 

And if it is... oh god. If it is... if I have James Moriarty in love...

I look at your face.

I have to believe, I have no choice...

God, Jim...

“I’m here, Jim. I’m staying with you. Forever, Jim. Don’t worry... I’m yours...

I love you too, Jim...

I love you...”

 

 

_Jaisus, the expressions moving across your face... you look like you want to beat me senseless, cry your eyes out, run off in a panic... and you also look like you're arguing with yourself - most likely something along the lines of 'what if this is *real*, but how can it be, but what if it *is*, but what if he's just toying with me *again*'... oh god, oh god... this is all my fault. The anger, the sorrow, the fear I see in your eyes is *my doing*... and now I'm asking you to trust me? To take care of me in my hour of need? To - love me?_

_Is that what I'm asking?? I *think* those are the words I used..._

_And those are the words I'm hearing back..._

_!!!_

_Oh thank feckin' Christ.._

_I collapse against you, my hands twisting in your t-shirt - I'm still afraid that you'll change your mind and bolt into the night. I pull you down to the ground with me, crawl back into your lap, hold onto you tightly - not that you couldn't throw me off you if you wanted to leave, but I feel like I have to keep you secured. Goddammit - why didn't I bring fecking restraints?? I find myself wondering if you have any rope, but I have no idea how to bring that up without tipping you off that I was going to tie you down. I'll have to search the saddlebags next time you take a piss._

_And yes, I recognize that this response is completely mental... and possibly a terrible approach to love? To be further assessed later..._

_I look up at you anxiously and realize my face is wet - when did I start crying??_

_Furiously I wipe at my eyes. "Fuck," I mutter. "Such a goddamn bloody mess..."_

_Fresh tears stream from my eyes, and I laugh in frustration. "Fecking beautiful... dis is what yeh want, Tiger? Yeh must be *mental*..."_

_You look at me, touch my face, nod slowly._

_I lay my hand against your cheek carefully, afraid you'll change your mind. "Yeh mean it? Yeh won't leave?" I demand._

_And then, more softly - "Yeh... love me? Even though I'm such a shit?"_

 

 

My Jim, my sweet poor Jim...

(What the fuck? Did I just use the words my, sweet, and poor in the same sentence as Jim?)

 _Look_ at the guy! He’s a mess!

You’re holding onto me like I’m a life belt, sit on my lap, crying... and my heart aches for you, but also rejoices, a little, that I can move you so...

You look at me, so vulnerable, so frightened... I’ve never seen you anything like this, not even when playing a character...

“Jim. If this is a joke, I’m done. I’m happy letting you torture my body, and even my mind, but I draw the line at you torturing my heart. If it’s a joke, say it now, and I’ll cry and be pissed off, but I’ll live, and probably come back.

If it’s a joke and you keep it up, to laugh at me afterwards, I swear now, I will beat you to a pulp and I _will_ leave you. I really don’t care if you kill me for it.

Right? So. Last chance. Is this a joke?”

 

 

_More tears squeeze from my eyes before I can stop them._

_“It’s not a fecking joke!” I shout, then wince. “Yeah, I know why yeh’d tink that! But how am ah supposed to convince you? If yeh don’t believe me, fine... just don’t go,” I say sullenly._

_I blink at you, then look away. I should get off you, give you some space. But that’s the last thing I want... I’m drunk, and feeling more vulnerable and raw than I’ve ever felt, since I stopped feeling full stop._

_I want to feel your arms around me... I want to feel your lips against mine..._

_“It’s *not* fine...” I say quietly, staring at the ground. I look up at you. “It’s not fine! Ah just feckin’ *opened up to you* and ah feel like I’m goin’ to die! Tiger... Ah meant what ah said. Ah fell for you, too... and ah feel like ah should be giving yeh space and ah *don’t want to*...” I lean in and kiss you hungrily. If you need to beat me to a pulp and leave, you might as well feckin’ kill me now…_

 

 

OK. I believe you... I do believe you. Not even you would go so far for a joke.

So that means...

That means...

 

Jim.

 

Oh god Jim.

 

Jim Moriarty is in love with me.

 

(Beer goggles?)

Good god Moran, how determined are you to not believe that what is happening is actually what you want most of anything?

And - not Jim. You can say what you like about Jim Moriarty (well, you can't, because he _will_ kill you), but he doesn't do stuff when drunk that he doesn't mean. He most definitely would not confess his love when drunk if it wasn't an act, which we've kind of established it isn't, or -

 

He means it.

 

Jim.

 

Oh god. Jim is in love with me.

James Moriarty loves me.

 

And I love him. So fucking much...

 

And look at him. He's a mess. Oh my poor Jim...

 

"Jim... sweet Jim, lovely Jim... " I hold you close, stroke your hair.

"It's alright Jim... I promise I won't leave, I promise...

I'm so sorry I thought you were joking... I just... it's all immensely surreal, for both of us...

Thank you, Jim, for opening up to me. I certainly never expected that. And I never expected you to fall for me, and... everything...

And I don't want you to give me space. I want you right here, right here with me... forever...

And yes, you can be a shit... but I don't care. You're _my_ shit. And I fucking love you..."

Oh great we're both crying now. Faeries, don't tell a soul of this, alright?

"Jim... my Jim..." - did I actually just say that? Out loud? And you're letting me get away with it?!

"I know it's scary for you, and I'm sorry that it is... But you can trust me, you know that. Your Tiger... always."

 

 

_I'm sniffling against your hair, making tiny whining sounds in my throat. "Ah *hate* dis... *god*, why won't it stop! I'm all *puffy*..." I say, feeling indignant as I wipe my eyes for what, the thousandth time? "So yeh believe me and yeh won't leave?" I say insistently. "Ah don't have to tie you down?"_

 

 

"Only if you want to..." I smile.

"You do still look incredibly beautiful, even when crying. Just - let me..."

I take a bottle of water and my discarded t-shirt, pour some water on it, use a dry section to wipe your tears and your nose, the wet bit to clean your face, then hand you a tissue to blow your nose.

"Does that feel better?"

 

 

_"A little..." I sniffle. "But ah'm still a drunken wreck..."_

_My arms are still clasped around your shoulders, and I can't bring myself to loosen my grip - like I'm afraid you'll vanish if I let go. Actually, I *am* afraid you'll vanish if I let go... best not to take any chances. "Ah don't have any restraints," I say mournfully. "Feckin' campin'..." My brow furrows as I hear myself speak. I've been too distressed to control my accent, and I need to reign it back in - now. "Feckin'..." I try and stop. "Jaysus... I'm so cut off..."_

_I press myself against you, feeling apprehensive. "So, *dis* happened... and... for once in mah life, ah haven't the foggiest clue what t'do..." I murmur against your cheek._

 

 

"Jim... you don't need restraints to tie me down. You know that. Tell me not to move and I won't move...

And you _especially_ don't need restraints to keep me here with you." I chuckle. "You won't ever be able to get rid of me now. I mean - you get a bodyguard, the best bodyguard; he keeps close. You enchant him, thrill him, fascinate him, he keeps even closer. You give him the best sex he's ever had, and he's right on top of you all the time. And then he falls in love with you... and you say you love him... you're going to have to beat me off with a stick if you ever want a moment of alone time. And considering our previous escapades, I don't think that will be particularly effective..."

I hold you close, stroke you. I will do anything to make you feel better, my love, my Jim... bloody hell... am I really thinking those words?

You're lost. How do I make you feel more at ease?

I bend towards you, kiss you... does that help?

 

 

_Your lips on mine... that's what I needed, that's what I *need*..._

_*Kiss me*... don't ever stop, Tiger..._

_My hands tighten on your back. I draw closer to you._

_When we part to breathe, our foreheads press together. "So - I'm still the perfect psychopath, then?" I ask, making you laugh. Mmm, I *like* that... I could spend a lifetime making you laugh._

_(Bloody hell - *what?* Is that the wine talking? A faerie glamour??)_

_"You're *my* perfect psychopath," you say adoringly._

_Pleasure at your words pools through me, makes me want to wriggle against you like a kitten._

_"Stop, you'll make me blush..." I roll my eyes, grinning._

_You grin back, and it only takes an instant of looking into each other's eyes to be kissing again._

_"Stars, Sebastian..." I whisper. "I made you a promise..."_

 


	8. Demonic Kittens Running Loose

“Yes... you’re going to make love with me under the stars... for the first time in your life, you’ll feel what it’s like to make love...

do you want that, my beautiful Jim?”

I stroke my hands under your shirt, pull you close, kissing deeply, sweetly, like we never kissed before last night, and which I’ve got so attached to already...

I’m so glad you said things aren’t going to go back to normal. I don’t think I could stand, after this, to be apart again - separated by a cold wall of ice, beaten down with irritated words when I cross the invisible, constantly moving line...

No, Jim. Never again. I have you in my arms and you will stay there; it’s where you belong.

 

 

_I shiver at your words. Can I really do this? The deep kissing has been intoxicating, but this - is a whole other level of intimacy. There will be nowhere to hide, and I'll be *seen*... Well, I must want to on some level, because why the hell else would I keep bringing it up? But what made me think I could handle this?? I swallow hard, trying to ignore the trembling in my muscles._

_Then I have no time to think because you're pulling me towards you, hands sliding over my skin... *fuck*. My skin feels vibrant with desire, my heart with longing... I do, I *fucking want this*..._

_"Yes..." I breathe against your neck. "Will you - show me?"_

_My heart flutters in my chest like a small bird beating its wings. "I want you, Sebastian...”_

 

 

My poor sweet darling - your heart is racing; you’re terrified. Of me? Of making love? What do you think _happens?_

I carefully pull your shirt over your head, feel your bare skin against mine, so smooth...

I roll you on your side, get up, “one second, Jim, I’ll just be one second,” I reassure you as you make a distressed sound like a kitten being taken from its mother. I get to the tent and grab the other sleeping bag - I don’t want you to get cold. I drape it over us, hug you tight again.

“You’re magnificent, Jim... you know I adore every little bit of you? This bit...” I kiss your forehead, “this bit...” your cheek, “this bit...” your mouth...

 

 

_“Mmmph... So many bits...” I murmur against your lips._

_You chuckle, and continue to kiss and stroke me. God, you’re being so *tender*... I feel completely out of my element. I think back to when I introduced you to Moriarty-level pain and domination... this is like the bookend to that experience. You’re introducing me to the polar end of the spectrum - the romantic sweetness of a Tiger. Will I be in the same state as you after, minus all the pain and blood? Will the end find me bewitched, weeping and besotted?_

_My eyes widen at the thought. Fuck... I didn’t think this through. But since I’ve already cried my eyes out, surely there wouldn’t be any more tears? That sounds right... how many tears could one psychopath cry in the course of an evening? I forbid any more tears, I tell myself severely._

_Satisfied, I caress your face and your hair - I’ve already learned this part, and feeling a strange sense of pride and accomplishment. I’m ready for the next bit..._

 

 

You are stroking me with that great concentration on your face again... like I’m a specimen that needs to be catalogued.

I move you onto your back, lean over you, and start kissing your neck. Not biting, not sucking hard, just licking, kissing, gently sucking, seeing what makes you shiver, what makes you moan...

I make my way to your ear, softly nibble the lobe, lick the edge, move down to your chest, kiss and lick my way around, stroking with my left hand.

 

 

_Oh god... my skin is awash with sensation... shocks of pleasure are moving through my body. I feel small shuddering spasms in my muscles, like tiny supernovae bursting in succession... a vast field of dying stars, spilling forth shock waves and stardust for new stars to shimmer into existence... Jaisus, Jim... does ill-advised drinking and romantic sex in the woods with your bodyguard turn you into a poet? *Tell no one*..._

_Only - you're not just my feckin' bodyguard anymore, clearly... What are you, then...? My *lover*... the word rises up in my mind like an obelisk and I'm swept away by feelings I have *no idea* what to do with..._

_How does one remain still in the face of such emotions and physical sensations...? How does one not explode from the mounting intensity, or disintegrate into fragments? How do I contain all this??_

_"Sebastian," I moan. "This is *so intense*... does it get any more intense than this?"_

 

 

I purr at that. “It can if you want it to...”

I’m amused at the thought of Jim Moriarty, who’s taken every conceivable pleasure from my body over the years (and quite a few inconceivable ones...) getting overwhelmed by simple kisses on his chest.

But then I’m touched more than amused... no one’s ever done this for you, have they? Oh my sweet Jim... (good grief you’ve got it bad, don’t you, Moran? _sweet_ Jim?!)

But the thought of no one ever having touched you lovingly... no one ever having kissed you like they meant it...

I’m going to make you feel all the things you missed, Jim, don’t you worry...

I lie down next to you, stroking your body, holding you close. I kiss the side of your mouth. “Do you want a break? Or would you like me to continue?”

 

 

_Jaisus, you really are perfect... fuck._

_“Well. If you continue, I may die. If you stop, I’ll definitely die! You know, this term ‘making love’ is deceptively innocent and sweet. It doesn’t really capture rolling around in a minefield, does it! I suppose you’ll tell me most people don’t experience it this way?”_

_I find myself idly touching your hair - is this something I do now?? If I had known touching would be this addictive, I would have rethought this little experiment which has completely turned my life upside-down. Right now for instance, I’m fidgeting because the touching has slowed down, and I have this sense that whatever it’s leading up to will be the cataclysmic cerebral event of the decade... and at this point, I *have to know* what lies on the other side... if the beginning of making love is *this intense*, what the hell is it like by the end??_

_Quite the curious kitty, Moriarty whispers. What happens to curious kitties, poppet?_

_“Fuck it. Continue!” I snap, then find myself giggling helplessly. I *am* still terribly drunk... “That’s not the kind of thing people say in these scenarios, is it...” I murmur, still touching your hair._

 

 

“Not usually... but it _does_ usually feel like rolling around in a minefield for many people when it’s the first time with someone, especially if it’s someone you want to have a second time with... and if you’re in love with them, it’s even scarier.

I’m terrified too, if that helps...” I kiss you carefully in your neck, then make my way down again. I focus on your nipples now; nip at them, suck them lightly between my teeth, then move down further, kissing your belly, your abdomen, making my way to your thighs, kissing the sensitive inside, sucking a bit... not quite enough to hurt... and further down, your shin... then I find myself kissing your foot, reverently, playfully catching a toe between my teeth, then moving to the other foot and making my way up again...

 

 

_It's hard to keep still and not squirm as your mouth moves along my body - especially my feet. I feel as wound up as a coil as I feel your lips and teeth on my sensitive skin... Shivers run through me, and somehow I manage to keep from kicking you in the face._

_Oh god, oh god... how much more intense can this possibly get??_

_"It does help that I'm not the only one..." I mumble. "So, we're both rolling around in a minefield in terror. That sounds more accurate, doesn't it? But it probably wouldn't entice people in quite the same way... 'Would you like to go for a terrifying roll through a minefield with me, darling?' 'I'm already paralyzed with fear - let's go!'"_

_Well, I seem to have got my accent under control... the fear is another thing entirely. I shiver again and again under your lips and hands as they make their way up my body._

 

 

"True... but then it's so worth it... Having sex is absolutely great, but making love with a person you care for... is incomparable. It involves more than just the physical senses... it's a whole-person experience."

I make my way down your chest again, to my favourite of your body parts - apart from your amazing brain, of course. I kiss the top of your thigh, then move to your balls, lick them, flick my tongue over the base of your cock, slowly move upwards. When I get to the top, I kiss it with concentration, then move my mouth around you... slowly...

 

 

_Fuuuuck… your blow jobs were already legendary, but now this is ten times as intense..._

_Something you said keeps bouncing around in my mind - and I'd really like to shut it down now, please - so I can focus on this blow job that feels like it's going to make me explode._

_"So you've done *this* with a lot of people, too?" My voice sounds silky... ohhh, noooo... can we not go there, please??_

_"Were there a lot of people you *cared about*, Sebastian?" I sound injured, which means anger and menace is just around the corner._

_Fuck. FuckFuckFuck..._

 

 

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Oh shit no don't go there, Jim...

Careful, Sebastian... Try to evade the subject, don't think about it, or you'll crack...

"One." My heart is squeezed to a quarter its normal size, and it hurts like a motherfucker. "It was a long time ago."

Please, let it go, Jim...

 

 

_Jesus. That's quite a reaction. I know it's dark, but I swear you just turned white. "Sebastian... Are you - OK?"_

_Was that genuine concern in my voice? I don't think I've heard that before..._

_"You look like you've seen a ghost. Come here..." I murmur, and open my arms. I've definitely never done *that* before... will you find it comforting?_

 

 

What the fuck, Jim. Just - let it go. Don't go being _sympathetic_... it doesn't become you. Can we just get back to blowjobs?

But no - I wanted a deeper connection, and I can't just break that off when it becomes uncomfortable. Well - I can - but that would make me as bad as you are...

Apparently this is to be a baptism by fire for both of us.

I move up into your outstretched arms - which in any other circumstances I would have been delighted by. You fold them around me, pull me close, which is... _so_ unlike you... and _so_ incredibly sweet... and how fucking _dare_ you...

Tears are threatening, and I _refuse_ , I deny them access, but they disregard me...

And - am _I crying in your arms?!_

What kind of weird fucked-up alternate reality have we entered?!

 

 

_I make sure I don't stiffen when you start unexpectedly crying. I'm rather proud of myself, but I can't even share that triumph with you. Hmph._

_So now what do I do, with a big soldier sobbing in my arms??_

_Well, I know I would normally consult my database of pop culture and literature to determine the correct human behaviour in any circumstance... but you suggested earlier I listen to my body and not my head?? It still sounds like hippie madness to me... but fine, let's give it a try..._

_I find myself pressing my head against yours and smoothing your hair (!)... then I kiss your forehead (!!)… then I say, "I'm here, Tiger..." (!!!)_

_I think it's good... is it good???_

 

 

Calm down Sebastian. Calm the _fuck_ down Sebastian. Breathe. In for two counts, out for four. Do _not_ let your mind enter the forbidden zone. Keep breathing.

Look at Jim. Jim is holding you. Comforting you. Jim.

The surreality of it all works to pull me out of my crying fit and get me back to the here and now.

I’m in Jim’s arms. Crying. He’s kissing and stroking me and saying he’s here - good god, what happened to Jim?!

I look up at you.

You... are trying to be sweet and supportive...

oh great that just makes me burst into tears _again_. Can we cut it out with the waterworks, Moran? What’s the matter, can’t handle your bloody drink?

Can’t handle my bloody boss, more likely... turning from the world’s cruellest evilest man into a caring partner?! How is one supposed to cope with that?

I smile at you through my tears. “You’re doing great, Jim... I’m sorry about that. It’s - a long story that I really don’t want to go into; and a long long time ago. I’m really not an expert in love... I’ve had more experiences with vanilla sex than you, but not with being in love.

I guess we’ll have to work things out together.

Is that acceptable to you?”

 

 

_I listen to you through the drunken haze in my mind. The thought strikes me - how am I going to feel about all this in the morning??? It seems likely that my mind will want to steer me towards being my usual self. But drunk Jim can’t bear the thought of disappointing Sebastian, hurting Sebastian... so I’m *forbidden* to be a prick in the morning. I decree I must remain... whatever *this* is. Caring? Supportive? Sweet? Yes, a basketful of these qualities, please. God, I’m *so drunk*..._

_Meanwhile, you’re sniffling and crying while waiting for a response from me. Looking fearful._

_“It’s acceptable, yes... Sebastian - if I’m acting in a way that is cruel or unfeeling tomorrow, I want you to say something to me - ummm... let’s make it ‘s’mores’. Because you’re so wonderful, I want some more of this... really, *more than* some more - But there’s no marshmallow word for *a lot more*... do I sound drunk to you? Is this making sense?” I ask, feeling worried._

_“I’m sorry I’m so selfish, but I’m glad you haven’t had any other experiences than one... and you never have to talk about it. Or talk about it when you’re ready. Is this supportive? It sounds supportive! Please tell me, am I getting this right??” I feel anxious as I look up at you. I made you cry and the more I talked, the more you cried! Am I doing this wrong??_

 

 

You're _so incredibly cute_ like this - am I really thinking of James Moriarty, the most dangerous man in London, the man who kills children to get ahead, as _cute!?_

And you think _you're_ drunk!?

But you are cute - the way you are trying to forbid yourself from getting back to your old cold callous self, the way you are desperately trying to be supportive, checking in with me if you're doing it right -

Oh Jim...

"You're doing great. You really are. I could almost believe you've secretly been a supportive sweet man all along, just pretending to be evil..." I smile.

 

 

_I roar with laughter at that. “And I fooled everyone, but not you?? You have to admire how far I took this... all the bodies that piled up over the years! All so no one would know how sweet I am... but you saw through my clever ruse. And now you must suffer the consequences!” I pounce on you, seize your wrists and cover your face with kisses. “Take *that*, you clever Tiger... oh, you will rue the day!!”_

 

 

Rawr... I love you when you're being playful...

I move quickly, try to kiss you before you move away to kiss another bit of my face, and it's a silly battle of kissing that ends when you plant your lips firmly on my mouth and I freeze my movement and we stay there... slowing down... kissing deepening, tongues moving, little moans escaping from either you or me - it doesn't matter; we're one... now, here, in this clearing in this forest on this night, James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran are melting together into one beautiful, monstrous creature...

 

 

_Well, silliness made you stop crying - add that to the mind map for future reference. File under 'Tiger', sub-category: Emotions of._

_I find myself wondering what else I can add, and how long it will take to fill in - and just like that the category seems to swell and take up a significantly bigger portion of the map than before. It's a bit dizzying and disconcerting._

_But it's hard to worry about it too much when the playful kissing has transformed into deep kissing, and now the level of intensity is escalating and I don't want it to stop... *ever*..._

_My mind seems to get its hackles up at that, but we're not listening to Mind now, not here in the forest on the ground, under the stars, under my Tiger who seems to be getting over the tears very quickly and is back on track..._

_"Mmm... show me what I've been missing, Tiger..." I hear myself say dreamily. Oh for fuck's sake, Jim... pour a bottle or two of wine in you, and you're not even a *little* hard to get?_

 

 

Right... where were we, before we were crudely interrupted...

I lie on top of you, rub my cock against yours -

"You've been missing me..." I murmur into your ear. "Holding me under tight control - whereas I'm _so much more fun_ when I'm unleashed... "

I turn you over, cuddle you from behind, rub my cock against your arse, kiss the back of your neck, make my way down your back, licking and kissing, until I get to that impossibly pert little arse, bite your cheek playfully.

 

 

_Ohhh... that feels *nice*… your cock rubbing against mine is just *mmmm*..._

_Yes, more of that, please..._

_Tiger unleashed? What?_

_Suddenly I'm on my front..._

_things are heating up and *oh*… playful, aggressive Tiger! He *is* more fun..._

_I look back, pretending to be huffy. "Ow..." I say pointedly. "Am I a late-night snack, Sebastian?"_

 

 

"You're damn tasty, that's for sure..." I reply.

I pull you up so you're leaning on your knees, get down, lick your balls and the sensitive skin between your scrotum and your anus, making you shiver. Then I move my tongue up, licking around and pushing inside, then I move down again, teasing your balls, the skin in between, then pushing inside again, lifting my hand to give gentle strokes to your cock, nothing firm or solid, just so it feels nice... and repeat...

 

 

_I suck in my breath as you start tonguing my arse. Fuuuuck, Tiger... My breathing comes quicker and I struggle not to have a total meltdown as you lick and tease. Not that you've never done this before, but everything feels different now. It's like my nerve endings are Christmas lights, flicking on and off - whatever body part you're working on feels like it's shorting out and sparking electricity. I shiver again and again as you lavish your attention on my posterior while giving affection to my cock. Small moans keep building up in my throat and before too long, I'm whimpering and shaking... *god*. It's a good thing I've decided I'm not allowed to be a prick to you in the morning. I can only imagine the hell there would be to pay for making me lose control like this..._

_"Oh *god*, Tiger... *fuck*..." I groan, feeling powerless to move or even protest weakly._

 

 

"Mmmm? That sounds like a good idea..." I purr.

I move, lie on my side, gently move you on your side too, get to work on that luscious cock - licking your balls, licking a long stripe up your shaft, teasing your head with my tongue before moving down again - rapid light moves, nothing intense, just enough to get you worked up...

In the meantime, I wet my finger, push it inside you at the same time as I take you deeply into my mouth.

 

 

_I'm already in a desperate state by the time you're licking my cock and fingering me... sensations intensify and I fight back a rising tide of emotion and ecstasy._

_I fail miserably._

_"Oh, *Christ*..." I groan as I feel myself straining against your mouth. "Oh, fucking Christ... "_

_I can't even thrust into your mouth, you're being *such a tease*... "Oh god, Tiger... just suck me... pl-" My mouth snaps shut. I might be drunk, but I'm still the ruler of your world. I'm not going to plead for a blow job... am I? No, no... no I'm *not*._

_"Just do it, Tiger... *suck me*..."_

 

 

Did I _nearly_ hear a please? Good grief. We'll make a gentleman out of you yet.

I'll give in... a little...

But first let me wet another finger and have it join the first. As I push both inside you, I start sucking you in earnest, pulling out my arsenal of Sebastian-Moran-is-the-best-cocksucker-in-the-Western-Hemisphere-and-probably-the-Eastern-too tricks. Soon I have you moaning and writhing...

Right, Mr Moriarty, this making love is an interactive experience though. It's not something you just lie back and undergo. So - I slide my fingers out of you, leave your cock after a particularly deep thrust, and make my way up to your face again, leisurely kissing your chest en route.

 

 

_I make a distressed sound when your mouth and fingers stop delivering sweet torment... it’s like music stopping abruptly, or lights being flipped on in a dark, cosy room. I want to scream, *Why did you stop??* But I suspect that is not commonly heard dialogue during lovemaking._

_“Why did you stop, Tiger?” I ask breathlessly. Better._

_*For fuck’s sake*. No. Don’t say that._

_“So we can do this together,” you murmur, kissing my ear._

_Ah - it’s usually me doing things to you, or you doing what I tell you to..._

_But I don’t know how to do this, remember?!_

_Yet again I remember your suggestion to listen to my body..._

_*fine*...What do you want, Body?_

_*Tiger*, every cell seems to be singing, *More Tiger*..._

_Holy fuck..._

_Desire flames through me. I find myself climbing onto you, rolling you onto your back and kissing you fiercely. Considering where your mouth has just been, the old Jim would have been turning up his nose at such a thing. But this new Jim doesn’t care one bit and will *not* be denied your mouth. My cock rubs against yours, my hips press down._

_“I want you, Sebastian...” I murmur before kissing you again. Like I’ve never wanted anything in my life... *I want you*._

 

 

Whoa! You've gone from uncertain observer to _very_ enthusiastic participant. I can't say I'm displeased with this development... I'm being climbed and kissed and rubbed and grabbed and... wow.

You want me? I don't think you've ever said that to me, have you? You've wanted me, obviously... but you've never quite made a declaration to that effect. When you wanted, you took - and it was always eagerly given.

But hearing you say it... is very welcome. And - rather scorchingly hot. I wonder if I could make that your personalized ringtone? "I want you, Sebastian..." It would be good to always pick up any calls from you with a semi.

"How do you want me, my darling?"

Is that alright? Can I call you that?!

 

 

_‘My darling’... you’re *so sweet*... now I want you even more._

_“Every way... all ways...” I ramble as my lips plunder yours. Will you take that as all ways or *always*?_

_*And always*..._

_Jimmy, you are in *so much trouble*... what if this just an infatuation? For him? Or for you? What if this is temporary sylvan insanity brought on by so much nature all at once and way too much wine?_

_Shut up, Mind, I say severely. You are not a part of this discussion..._

_I feel my mind flounce off in a huff. Well, I’m probably done for, then... but what a way to go._

_“How do you want *me*, sweet thing?” I ask you in a husky voice, and run my tongue over your earlobe._

 

 

How do I want you?! Oh my god - let me count the ways...

So it’s up to me to decide? Well, of _course_ I’m dying to fuck that sweet little arse... and maybe it’s a good idea to show you how being gently fucked can be nice? Or should I ride you, like you did for me yesterday?

Mmm, no, I think I’m going to be sweetly selfish for once...

“I want you always and all ways, you know that... have you ever known me not to be gagging for you? I think once, when I had that really bad flu... and even that was quickly overcome when you put your mind - and hand - to changing my mind...

You’re so incredibly hot, Jim, you’re sex on two legs... everything about you is sensational, your body, your face, your devious intellect, your devilish inventiveness... your delicious cock... your magnificent arse... and it’s that which is luring me right now...

Would you like me to fuck you gently? Slowly, lusciously, with plenty of kissing and stroking...

What do you think?”

 

 

_I listen dreamily to you as you list all the ways I’m wonderful. Mmm... I do sound delectable, don’t I. And of course you would go for the arse, given half a chance... you receive this privilege so rarely. What you don’t know is that by giving you the choice then I get what I want, without having to ask for it... devious intellect, you did say?_

_*Yes*, for fuck’s sake - fuck me gently, you magnificent Tiger... kiss me, stroke me, plunge your big, hard soldier cock into me - again, again, again, until I’m moaning for release._

_“Oh, do that... yes...” I murmur. “Fuck me gently, my magnificent Tiger...”_

_*Fuck’s*. *Sake*. That was *not* for saying out loud, Jimmy... And you made it that much more intimate saying ‘my’ instead of ‘you’!_

_Still drunk. Don’t care..._

_I look down at you, eyes smouldering. “Wanna know a secret? I’ve been wanting to do this all day. *All day*... But I had to wait for stars and hope we hadn’t imploded by the time they came out... and I had to drink *a lot*... Sebastian - I don’t want any more implosions, *please*... can we just have this? Can we?”_

_I’m not sure what I’m asking you anymore... please, just... please..._

 

 

Oh my Jim -

I grab you close and kiss you.

How hard is this for you? What is going on in that big brain of yours? How often do you suppress your desires to fit with your preconceptions of what you should be like?

I'm seeing you in such a different light, here in the glow of the fire and the stars... and I adore what I'm seeing. You're a confused little kitten as well as a lethal cold machine - who'd ever have thought? Except for me - because I knew, I _knew_ it, I knew somewhere inside there was something - something pulled me towards you that was more than admiration and lust, something that I longed to find, like an oyster diver who keeps nearly suffocating bringing up shells because he _knows_ there will be a pearl in there somewhere and if he finds it it will be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen...

I lean down between your legs, lick your cock, your balls, the area behind them, push inside you again - your moans are driving me crazy, but we were going to take it _slow_ , Sebastian - then get the lube and carefully prepare you while I'm kissing, licking, and teasing your cock.

 

 

_God..._

_*fuck*..._

_*SEBASTIAN*..._

_You're not even *in* me, and I'm mewling like a bedraggled kitten..._

_I *can't come yet*... no matter how much I *want to*!!!_

_"God baby, that feels so fucking good!!" I moan. (*Baby?*)_

_"Oh god, please, Tiger..." (*PLEASE?!*)_

_"Slow-fuck me, make me cry, make me come so hard for you..." (Oh, I *give up*!!!)_

_Right, Moriarty has left the building in utter disgust..._

_and Jimmy is ready for some sweet Tiger love..._

_I groan loudly as you suck me hard._

 

 

Baby?! Make me _cry!?_ Make me come _for you?!?_

I have to suppress the urge to ask you to repeat those - I'm sure I heard it correctly - but -

Jim!?

Wow. Talk about transformation. And you didn't want to go camping... this was the best idea ever.

I carefully move your legs up further, position myself at your entrance - move sloooww...

Your face looks amazing - longing. concentrating, intense...

God, Jim, I love you...

 

 

_In the back of my mind, I feel the snarling echoes of Moriarty... the residual glare and a snarl that I'll *regret* this, wait and see..._

_Oh god, you're probably right... but I'm thirty-one and I've never had a sweet, loving experience as an adult. Was I going to go the rest of my life never experiencing it, not *once*?_

_(‘I thought things weren't going back to normal after the weekend?’ demands Moriarty from a ways off. His voice is muffled, but I can still feel him shaking with rage. ‘When this blows up in your face, it'll be up to me to pick up the pieces... but don't worry, poppet... I've never been afraid to do the heavy lifting...’ he whispers and blows me a kiss before fading away.)_

_Oh good... not *at all* alarming... well, there will be plenty of time for second-guessing my actions and quite possibly regretting every word I've uttered... tomorrow. Tonight is for me and Tiger._

_I raise my hips, feel your cock pressing against me..._

_oh god... I've never wanted you more..._

 

 

Slowly, gently, I move into you.

I’m nearly overwhelmed by the sensation.

Sure, I’ve done this before - but always under very strict control according to strict parameters. Until last night - but I was so pissed, I can’t really remember much. But now I’m almost sober... and you said you _love_ me... and nothing could have made me happier... and now I’m about to fucking _make love_ to you...

Fuck, all my Christmases have come at once...

I look at you, see you look up at me with that _face_... your _real_ face, the one without any masks or personas, the face I’d never seen until last night... and I fell for like a ton of bricks.

There it is again, and the effect is no less. My heart squeezes, contorts, expands, melts. Tears push into the corners of my eyes. You look so sweet, so vulnerable, so unlike any way I’ve ever seen you.

I bend down, kiss you softly, look into your eyes, unveiled for once - it’s like I can look into your soul... black and tormented as it may be, it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

 

 

_When you enter me, everything. fucking. changes._

_The fact that I thought we could go back to normal after these two days is *laughable*..._

_these two days have been a wildfire roaring through acres upon acres of woodlands and burning everything into ashes..._

_these two days have been a tornado, tearing up structures, fences, cars, and relocating them before smashing them to bits against the ground..._

_these two days have been an earthquake, grinding tectonic plates and causing jagged lines to rip through the earth, toppling houses into deep chasms..._

_to say I'm overwhelmed would be the understatement of a lifetime._

_I feel disoriented..._

_I feel vulnerable..._

_I feel raw..._

_But I just can't fight this tidal wave of feeling that has been carrying me along for two days..._

_I so wanted to sit in your lap..._

_feel your arm around me..._

_nuzzle your neck..._

_kiss your lips..._

_I have wanted to *all this time*… the adolescent buried in me has been longing for a loving, protective boy to kiss and hold..._

_the prison that has held him has been burnt, smashed, and toppled into a chasm, and he has walked clear._

_I moan softly as I feel you moving in me..._

_My head falls back. My arms circle you. I bring you down to my lips._

 

 

Your face - oh god Jim, your face - you look like you're being shown the secrets of the universe and you're overwhelmed by them. I can do that to you?

I can... oh god... with great power comes great responsibility, Sebastian... You've cracked the shell of Jim Moriarty's armour, but you've also cracked Jim Moriarty... he's _so_ vulnerable now, and you'll have to take care that he doesn't fall to bits. As well as keep him safe from Scottish wildcats, oh and help him kill two reasonably dangerous guys with their bodyguards tomorrow. All not _quite_ your usual day's work...

And it's not like I have any idea of how to have a healthy love relationship... let alone with my boss, who happens to be a sadistic criminal psychopath... and the sweetest Kitten in the world...

Well, that's the fun of being with you - I get to do at least six impossible things before breakfast. Really, the SAS was a picnic in the park compared to working for you...

I carefully, slowly move out and in slightly deeper, and you moan, pull me close, kiss me. I've never been so intimate with you... so close to you... and now I've experienced it, I will never be able to give this up. If you go back to being your cruel callous distant self when we get back, it will _kill_ me... But I don't think you could. You've fallen apart, burst open, and there's no way to get a chick back into an egg - or even a serpent...

 

 

_I look up at you and see you gazing down at me like I’m the most precious thing in the universe. The vulnerability I’m feeling makes me almost wince - I'm a dragonfly pinned to a specimen board - mighty and beautiful in the realm of insects, to be sure... but powerless in this situation I now find myself. Pinioned by your body and your eyes..._

_But I could tell you to stop if I wanted... So... do I want to stop?_

_I imagine stopping what we're doing, getting dressed, retreating to the tent in uncomfortable silence... going on our killing spree tomorrow, returning home... and then continuing our distant relationship as always, or... you leaving for good._

_The first outcome feels like a cruel punchline, the second - like an actual punch to the solar plexus. I feel pain and tightness in my chest at the thought, I struggle to breathe... imagining sitting in that apartment alone... night after night..._

_Then - I imagine sitting on your lap on the sofa, kissing you..._

_clothes start coming off, we tumble to the floor..._

_and then things get X-rated…_

_Mmm. *Tiger*..._

_Wait - why am I fantasizing about hot sex with Sebastian while I'm *having hot sex with Sebastian*??_

_Because we're making love for the very first time and I'm freaking out a little... ok, *a lot*..._

_I look into your eyes, and I'm lost in them.. the tightness in my chest loosens, the pain dissipates... I start to breathe again._

_I place my hand against your cheek. *I trust you*, I think, shocking myself._

_And I pull you to the side, roll us over and find myself looking down at you. Slowly I move against you, and lean down to kiss you hungrily._

 

 

Your eyes bore into mine like you can read my mind and soul through them, and then you put your hand on my cheek, looking like I'm here to deliver you from the fearful place you have found yourself in.

And then I find myself rolling over and looking up at you pressing yourself down on me -

that is my Jim. In control. But - you are still looking at me without any masks, no attempts to hide the true Jim. This is like yesterday, but unlike yesterday I am half sober, and I hope - I am certain - I will remember this tomorrow and for a long time to come.

You lean down and kiss me, and sink deeper onto me, and I don't think I have ever felt such bliss in my life - the man I love more than anything, anyone, ever, around my cock, his tongue in my mouth, having said he loves me - loves me - oh god Jim...

I moan, wrap my arms around you, pull you down, deeper onto me, your tongue inside me, my cock inside you; I decide that this is the high point of my life. Kill me now, and I'll die happy. Don't kill me now, and I'll continually strive to recreate this moment. Jim Moriarty... dark angel fallen from heaven, sexiest man alive, most dangerous man in London, and love of my life... I didn't realize that before now, but it only ever could have been you...

 

 

_God, this is *so fucking intense*... you seem to be swept up in it too, but less overwhelmed, more happy? I’ve made you... *happy*? Just by kissing you and caressing you and letting you touch me so sweetly...?_

_Awww... what a lovely Tiger you are. That’s all it takes for you to be happy? Me??_

_I feel I’ve been skewered through the chest with an axe, these emotions are so intense... but... I think you’ll help me through this. I know you’ll be sweet and strong while I try not to burn down the world in response to my feelings..._

_There’s no one else who can be there for me like you, I realize._

_Suddenly I feel so protective of what I have with you - jealousy and anger surge through me._

_“I need you, Tiger... and you’re *mine*. No one else can have you,” I inform you, making you chuckle. I don’t know what’s funny about that..._

_I glower at you. “I mean it... *mine*, Tiger...”_

 

 

"I know you mean it..." I smile. "But surely you know I've been yours from the start... that's not going to change now... it's only going to get deeper..."

You are still scowling.

"Jim... you made me yours that first night we spent together. You tore me down completely and put me back together the way _you_ wanted me. And I've been yours ever since... your sniper, your bodyguard, your sex slave, your everything you wanted me to be. _Yours_. Always. Mind, body, and soul... it's just that now you've got my heart as well. The full set...

I didn't even know it was available, but there you go. I've always been yours, I always will be yours. You don't have to worry about that. And -"

I hesitate. We've never talked about exclusivity - it was just a given that I was yours completely, and I didn't ask about your activities. But I've never seen any indication of you and anyone else. I would have been jealous, even though we both knew I was yours, you were not mine. But judging from your words yesterday, me being yours was enough for you, fortunately...

But - will I be able to call you mine, now? Is that something I can ask? Something I can say out loud, even? Or will it freak you out even more? Best not frighten the cornered Kitten... Take it easy, Seb...

"... and now I'm even more yours. I haven't looked at another man since we got together - and I never will again."

 

 

_My jealousy is fading as you speak. I feel my muscles relax and I give a soft sigh._

_But I notice hesitation in you, and some fear in your eyes... are you concerned about *me*? Don’t you know??_

_“Sebastian... you don’t think I could be interested in anyone else, do you? Other than finding certain people physically attractive, I have never been *interested* in anyone else... you’re the only one I’ve *ever wanted*...”_

_Suddenly we’re kissing again... I don’t even know who started. I roll you over again, so you’re over me. “You’re up,” I murmur._

 

 

I giggle at that remark - you probably didn't mean it to be funny, but I'm all giddy after you saying that I'm the only one you've ever wanted... Oh Jim... you can be so _incredibly_ romantic for an unfeeling narcissistic psychopath...

"You're funny," I say, as I kiss your nose. You wrinkle it utterly adorably and look at me cross-eyed, which makes me giggle even more. "Do you have _any_ idea how _adorable_ you are? Don't worry, I won't tell anyone..." I snigger.

Keep it together, Tiger, we're trying to make sweet sweet love here - and you _do_ feel incredibly good...

I move slightly out of you, push further in... oh god that does feel... incredible...

 

 

_All this ‘you’re so funny, you’re so adorable’ business... I find it irritating and endearing in equal measures. I map each feeling to its inevitable conclusion - irritation leads to snippiness, hurt feelings, more separation... I don’t like *separation* from you... I *don’t want it*..._

_Finding your annoying actions endearing, however... leads to more affection and closeness. Which I am extremely surprised to discover I want *more* of..._

_“I’m choosing to find annoying things you do endearing,” I inform you, which just makes you laugh - again. I roll my eyes - good thing I figured out about the ‘annoying is endearing’ thing. This applies to you only, of course... For everybody else, *annoying* is murder._

_I’m also surprised to realize that I just figured out something to do with a feeling that didn’t involve a meltdown... I would tell you this too, but I should probably stop thinking full stop so I can focus on what’s happening._

_And what’s happening is that you’re moving deeply into me and my head is falling back and I’m moaning deliriously._

_And I’m wrapping my legs around your waist, taking you in deeper still, and making *you* moan... I think I’m getting the hang of this, too... I think I like it... I think I’ll want to do it again..._

_If I tell you, will you say how adorable I am? Hmph. (And also, Mmm... *more*, please...)_

 

 

I can’t recall a time when we’ve been so free with each other - laughing during sex? We’ve had many laughs - you’ve got a wicked sense of humour, quite literally, and you do appreciate my sass - but not during sex... sex was seriously controlled territory, controlled by you, undergone by me - greatly enjoyed by both of us, but not something light-hearted. This is - also very enjoyable, but we both seem so much more at ease, and it's fun - like you're my friend and lover, as well as my boss and master.

Jim Moriarty... friend and lover... that would be really quite awesome... rather unthinkable as well...

Meanwhile, Jim Moriarty is underneath me and pulling me inside him and that is _really_ awesome... maybe I should stop playing and deliberating and get moving... hard fucking can be part of sweet lovemaking, right? You seem to be up for it...

I pull back, push in again, lick the palm of my right hand, wrap it around your cock, start moving it gently...

 

 

_I'm already so turned on, I moan loudly when I feel your hand on my cock. "Oh - Jesus... oh, fucking Christ almighty..." I gasp._

_I look at you, and you seem like you're fighting back more giggling. I glare at you in mock outrage._

_"Fuck's sake, Sebastian... Why is everything so funny all of sudden?"_

_You shake your head helplessly. " I *don't know*..."_

_"I'm sorry, darling... but if you laugh one more time - it's murder in the deep woods for you..." I say drily. "With only tiny, snarling wildcats for witnesses..."_

_Suddenly it seems very important not to look at each other... But I feel you shaking against me, and I burst out laughing._

_"*Idiot*," I grin at you, wiping tears from my eyes as you laugh into my shoulder. "I have a very strange impression of *making love* now, and it's all your fault... Or is it always like this with you??"_

 

 

"I don't know," I hiccup helplessly, "I don't usually make love with people... See I have this bossy fucker for a boss, and he just likes fucking... and I haven't really _loved_ people before him, so it's all a bit academic... I'm doing my best, but I'm being mercilessly thwarted by this hilarious kitten..."

You scowl and I laugh so much I inadvertently slide out of you and fall onto my side helpless with laughter.

"I'm... sorry... It's just... nerves..." I wheeze.

 

 

_"I see no hilarious kittens here," I say primly. "But perhaps one of those snarling wildcats will wander by and bear witness to the epic murdering I promised you..."_

_"So - sorry - Jim - " you gasp, as you hold your stomach._

_"You do realize we've stopped..." I watch you, completely perplexed. "Sex has been pre-empted by hysterical fits of laughter... I don't know whether to cry or be angry or..."_

_I reach over for a bottle of water, uncap it and spray it all over you, giggling like a lunatic._

_"Option three - definitely..." I smile smugly and watch you sputter as water drips down your hair and naked body._

_Then I see a gleam in your eye, and panic rises up in me - I slowly back towards the tent, laughing wildly._

 

 

"Jim! You absolute lunatic! You got our sleeping bag all wet!" I shout out through fits of laughter. Oh sod it - I'll dry it over the fire later - right now I have a Kitten to catch...

You're backing towards the tent, guessing that I won't risk throwing water over you in the tent - you got that right... but it also means you're backing yourself into a corner.

I make a dash for you and you duck into the tent. I dive after you and drag you out, throw you over my shoulder, and run towards the stream.

 

 

_I grin madly when you haul me out of the tent and throw me over your shoulder... no one has ever roughhoused with me like this *ever*. And with good reason... they would have been dead for even touching me without permission. Secretly I'm delighted, although I'm protesting and giggling when you start to run. I assume we'll be returning to our now-damp sleeping bag, but you pass right by it and head for the stream..._

_..._

_"Oh haha, you better not be *thinking* of - Sebastian - you are *NOT* going to throw me in - " I shout, laughing maniacally._

_Oh my god, you're not slowing down..._

_"*SEBASTIAN!* There's *FISH* in there! It's cold! And dark! NOOOOO!!!"_

 

 

I laugh at your panicked screams - poor city boy, convinced he's going to get eaten by pike if he falls into a woodland stream...

I run into the stream, make like I'm going to throw you, and am glad I didn't do it for _real_ , because you have taken a very firm grasp of some locks of my hair. That would have been painful.

"Ow - let go, Kitten... I'm not going to throw you into the stream..."

 

 

_"Of *course* you're not going to throw me in the stream... you like living, don't you?"_

_I let out a long breath, and slowly loosen my grip on your hair._

_"Now, Tiger... you will *carry* me back, and we will resume what we were doing... unless you'd rather just tell terrifying ghost stories, since you're so giddy?"_

 

 

"Giddy ghost stories? They're lousy. Good ghost stories are like the one where the murderous Kitten got eaten during the night by a fierce Tiger..." I grin as I carry you back to the fire. Fortunately it isn't cold - I'm going to have to hang one sleeping bag up quite close to the fire if we're hoping to have it dry before bedtime, but sweet sweet loving can recommence on the other one, near the fire so my Kitten doesn't get cold...

I gently lay you down, kneel over you, my elbows on either side of your head, my face close to yours.

"Now where were we..."

 

 

_"I believe you were burying yourself in my arse, sexy tiger..." I purr. "And you were just starting to stroke your Kitten, and it felt so good... before we were so rudely interrupted, of course..." I run my hands over your chest, and gaze up at you. "I just don't know if we can recreate it..." I shake my head sadly. "Are you sure you don't want to tell ghost stories instead? I don't know that one about the fierce Tiger, but there's one about a demonic Kitten who went for too long without sex and ran amok, destroying *everything*..."_

_I slide my hands down to your cock and begin to stroke it. "If only there had been some way to avoid this terrifying conclusion..."_

 

 

"Oh no, can't have demonic kittens running loose - this is a protected area... someone has to do something!" I grin, shivering at you stroking my cock, reaching for the lube. It's only a moment before I am inside you again - how could I ever let myself get distracted from this? It's heaven in the Cairngorms, Elysium on Earth... My eyes close for a moment at the exquisiteness of the feeling, the sheer unprecedented perfection of _everything_...

I open my eyes, and your face has changed from devilish imp to... real Jim again, and my heart swells again - how big does one organ get? I look into your eyes, unmasked, uncertain, looking into mine, and if I didn't know it before, I know it now - I will never ever be anything else than completely, unreservedly, and utterly yours.

 

 

_It doesn’t take us long at all to resume our position and our former activity._

_You’re gazing into my eyes as you move inside me, and I’m trying so hard not to withdraw behind my shell... it feels like grabbing a cartoon cat and pulling it back, as they leave claw marks in the ground. Hmm... maybe there is something to this Kitten nonsense... I already know it would be my patronus, although *no one* knows this, or will ever know this... well. *Maybe* Sebastian will find out one day... especially if we play any more drinking games. God help me... well, the cat’s out of the bag at this point, anyway. James Moriarty has a heart, James Moriarty loves Sebastian Moran... *god*, I still don’t know how this happened. Camping must have messed with my brain more severely than I thought. Not that I *regret* it, I realize with a shock. I’m still drunk, but I know that much is true..._

_I smile at you tentatively and pull you down for a deep kiss._

_“The demonic Kitten likes you... *a lot*...” I murmur. “So you *should* be safe... everybody else should duck and cover, as usual...”_

 

 

"I love the demonic Kitten," I whisper back. It gets easier every time I say it - though it still sounds incredibly scary and makes me flinch inwardly, afraid you'll snap at me, laugh at me, turn your back on me. But you do none of these things; you dig your fingers into my back, with your razor-sharp kitten nails making me gasp and thrust into you harder.

And soon all talk of felines is forgotten, there's just you and me - James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran - closer together than ever before, neither of them the hardened calloused criminal we usually show, but a kitten and his tiger, lovers, friends, carefully setting their first steps on this new treacherous path, trying not to slip, trying not to hurt ourselves or each other.

I reach for your cock again, stroke it - you moan delightfully, close your eyes, arch back your head - oh god Jim you're so infernally _beautiful_...

 

 

_“I like this, too...being close to you..." I whisper, eyes closed. I wince at hearing the words, like they become bombs upon leaving my lips - I'm afraid they'll destroy everything. What do I think is going to happen?? You'll change your mind because... I opened up and showed you my heart?_

_That's what people do, I argue hotly. It's all head-games and power-grabs... at least I'm honest about being diabolical! But you're not most people... I don't *think* you would - would -_

_Because if you *did* - it would *not be good*..._

_But you *wouldn't*... right?!_

_Are we going to have to - *talk*??_

_Oh sweet Jesus... not *that*... anything but that..._

_Slowly I open my eyes and gaze at your face._

_*I trust you, Tiger*..._

 

 

Oh my Jim... ( _My Jim!?_ Yes!) You wince at your own sweetness, like you expect to be beaten down the moment you dare go there.

What made you like this, I wonder? My heart bleeds at the thought of you being sweet in the past and people hurting you for it...

_I'm going to kill them all._

I look with interest at the glowing black and red ball of fury that is rising up in me. I mean, I was protective of you before - it's kind of in the job description, as a bodyguard - but this is something new. It's personal _agony_ at the thought of you ever being or ever having been hurt.

Great. That's one side effect of being in love I could have done without...

And then you open your eyes and look at me with such apprehension and trust that the ball melts into a giant blob of lava that melts through my entire body, filling me with warmth and an almost painful compulsion to protect you from everything and anything that might ever show any indication of thinking about hurting you.

I lean over, kiss you -

"God, Jim, I love you..."

Oh my god - can I say it like that?!

 

 

_There's a fiery look in your eyes - reminds me of how you are when you're surveying an environment for threats. I *love* how vigilant and lethal you become when you're protecting me..._

_!!!_

_*Oh* - are you feeling protective of me??_

_That's the complete opposite of my fear..._

_the paralytic fear that has been freezing and twisting my insides from the time I was a child - that anyone I love and trust would betray that love and trust... do *unspeakable* things and crush my heart... or... I would be the one to do unspeakable things to them..._

_But not Tiger?_

_There is no danger that you would not throw yourself into to protect me..._

_You would die for me... I know that with everything I am._

_Is it that much of a leap to think - you would live for me, as well?_

_"God, Jim, I love you..." I hear, and I almost jump - as if you were answering my thoughts._

_"And... I - love - you..." I speak in a daze. "Please don't - hurt me, Sebbie. I don't think my heart could take it..."_

 


	9. A Love Tap by a Scorpion

My mouth falls open. My brain is only capable of producing white noise. My heart is pounding like it's trying to break through my ribs, at the same time as igniting all the lava that just poured through my body, setting my nerve endings on fire.

Jim -

you -

You think _I_ would hurt _you!?_

What universe have you been living in!?

My heart jumps into my throat, where it forms a solid lump, pushing tears into my eyes - Jim...

What happened, Jim? How do you equate love with hurt? Oh you poor sweet psychopath - oh god, my love...

"Jim..." I struggle to speak past the lump in my throat, but I _have_ to, I have to let you know...

"Oh god my sweet Jim..." tears are streaming now - good thing we're far away from civilization. This would be inconceivable in the harsh reality of London... but here, between the trees, next to a fire, under the stars... the Faerie Queen works her magic...

"Jim... I swear to you... I would _never_ hurt you. I'd rather die than hurt you. I will kill anyone who so much as thinks of hurting you... I will kill everyone who's ever hurt you...

Jim, you're _everything_ to me, everything I have, everything I've ever wanted - I _adore_ you, I'm _yours_... I'll protect all of you from anything, and if you are brave enough to open your heart... I will protect that with everything I have... I swear, Jim..."

 

 

_Each word you say is like a healing balm - not only to what I’m feeling now (dread... terror...) but to my heart (so much pain...)_

_I never wanted to be *aware* of this pain again, let alone face it. I had somehow convinced myself I was beyond it, the perfect psychopath, that I was *done* with it. But it obviously wasn’t done with *me*..._

_Fuuuuck... it feels like a secret portal has opened up in my torso and I’ve discovered an endless supply of horrors inside - shards of glass, and angry insects with pincers, to start with... buckets of battery acid, and horror film soundscapes soon follow... *god*... I was *not* prepared for this when I agreed to go camping. I thought I would just be a screaming nightmare for the entire weekend, then we’d have a nice soothing bloodbath, and that would be that._

_I did not expect to bring home *feelings* from the deep woods. This would be a disaster of epic proportions, except for one thing... you._

_Because somehow... you’re healing me, Tiger... you beautiful, randy creature. It’s not something I thought I wanted... and I’m not foolish enough to think that I’ll be sane or emotionally well, but - my heart feels different. It feels *alive*, not a lump of coal and fury and spite, held together by drawing pins and electrical tape._

_I blink back tears, and my chin trembles. “My foolish Tiger... falling in love with the unholy terror that is James Moriarty... If you are mad and bad and brave enough to leap into this abyss, then - you’ve earned it. My heart has only come back to life for you, anyway... I think that means - it’s meant for you, Sebastian...” My brow furrows. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t understand how it happened. But - I can’t argue with it, can’t fight it - and I don’t even want to anymore. I’m yours now too, Tiger... And I don’t need to open my heart - you’re already inside of it.”_

 

 

Oh - Jim... Oh my Jim... _MY_ Jim...

You're looking at me with damp blinking eyes, your lip trembling - oh my god you look for all the world like a young boy who's going to cry -

and that makes _me_ cry –

 

_my heart has only come back to life for you_

 

That's it. My heart has given up, has exploded into a million tiny pieces, which we will never be able to find among the pine needles and leaves...

 

_it's meant for you, Sebastian..._

 

Your face is blurred out by the tears by now gushing out, and my body is racked with sobs.

 

_I don't need to open my heart - you're already inside of it._

 

I slide out of you, move your legs, fall down next to you, pull you towards me - hug you as hard as I dare without crushing you - oh god Jim - _Jim_ -

I'm crying, you're crying, we make a _fine_ display of hard gangsters... I kiss you where my mouth can reach you, clutching you to my chest.

"Jim... I can't believe... I'm sorry, I am crying like a little baby... but you... your heart... Jim..."

Yeah, wonderful speech, Sebastian. All those years at Eton not gone to waste.

"That's... the most beautiful... thing anyone's ever said, ever..." I hiccup. "Yes, I'm mad and bad and brave enough... I would never want anything else than this... Because you are the most astonishing, beautiful, brilliant, talented man to ever walk this earth, and I'd do _anything_ for you - and for you to love me... it's just..."

I burst into sobs again. Well done, soldier. Let the poor man see what he's walked into.

 

 

_I'm watching you crying, and my chin starts trembling again. (Goddammit, Jimmy...really??)_

_I burst into noisy, heart-wrenching sobs but it's not so bad now that you're crying, too. I feel less vulnerable, more like... we're in this strange place together - this sweetly threatening, heart-warming place._

_The pain in my chest has dulled to a stinging sensation, like I've been given a love tap by a scorpion. (*Of course* in my world Cupid would be a venomous creature...)_

_"My mad, bad, brave, beautiful Tiger..." I weep against your chest. "You're insane, darling!! But I'm glad you are... I'm so *glad* you are, Tiger..." I sob, throwing my arms around your neck. "I *do* love you, Sebbie... and I think in the last few minutes, I just fell *harder*. God, it was already challenging enough... now what??" I spend the next few moments weeping and nuzzling my face in your neck, feeling strangely comforted by your crying._

_"Are we ever going to finish, darling?" I ask wistful voice, sniffling against your skin.. "I *liked* it - it just stirred up a lot..."_

 

 

I don't know what's happening in this enchanted forest, but I am quite certain I should leave an offering out for the forest spirits tonight...

I remember the stories my nanny used to tell me, of how the faeries would grant your dearest wish if you were pure of heart... apparently they're not _too_ fussy about the purity.

"I love you too, Jim... I love you, you insane god... magnificent demon... jester king...dark lord of my life, fallen angel of my heart..."

Huh. It's not enough that we're acting like we're extras in A Midsummer Night's Dream, now I'm starting to talk like one as well. It's not one of the Fair Folk's holidays or something, is it? We're not _actually_ being manipulated like puppets in a play for their amusement, to wake up tomorrow dazed and confused and with no recollection of what happened?

Not that I believe in _any_ of this, but I'm still going to leave a bottle of wine out for them. I think you've had enough anyway.

"Now, my love... " (that's better...) "we just see where we go... it's new territory for both of us, but if we trust each other and are supportive of each other, we can make it work..." (Oh great. Straight from Shakespeare to Cosmopolitan.) "Jim, you're a god among men, you deserve to have whatever you desire... and there is nothing I wish for more than to be able to love you to the best of my ability, to give you everything you want, to say I love you every day, to watch you smile as you wake up next to me..." (that'll do, Tiger... are you going to talk the poor man to sleep or are you going to get back to that love-making you promised him?)

"Well, the first time we had to stop because we were laughing too much... the second time because we were crying too much... third time lucky?" I smile at you. I lean up, move over you again, slide inside again... fuck, this just feels amazing every time... slowly start moving, whilst kissing the tears from your eyes.

 

 

_Oh, my... you have a *poetic* side, Tiger... I listen in awe as you bestow epithets upon me like roses at my feet._

_What else don't I know about you?? I'm wildly curious, now... hungry for more... is *that* why people have relationships? To explore who a person is? Not to play head games with them, but to... what? Get closer to them? Become more fascinated with them? Fall *more* in love with them??_

_Maybe it's all the wine, or the hushed majesty of the forest, but I feel enchanted...!_

_But James Moriarty doesn't feel 'enchanted'!! Unless it's by the spray of blood in the moonlight... or the dance of bodies being hit with a spray of bullets... right??_

_I look at you helplessly as you reassure me, tell me you'll give me everything I want, wake up next to me every morning and tell me you love me..._

_Yes... I'm *enchanted* by my sweet, romantic bodyguard... I *want all of those things*...(!!!)_

_And then you're inside me again, and I sip your tears from the corners of your eyes, and suck them gently from your skin._

_Heaven help me... I'm done for._

 

 

My body eagerly grasps the chance to be involved with something else than crying - and sex is always a firm favourite. Sex with _you_ , specifically - sex with anyone else has been out of the question since you made me yours in that night of agony and ecstasy. Since then we've been going deeper and deeper in physical explorations and mindfucks - but this, this is new territory entirely. No mindfucks. No masks. No roleplay. It's heart to heart, truly man to man, and it's more scary than anything we've done before. But _so_ exquisite. Seeing _you_ , the real you, the man of whom I'd only caught a glimpse of a reflection of a shadow here and there - the man I had only the merest suspicion existed - it's infinitely beautiful and will remain engraved in my memory forever. The real you is so different from the you I've seen so far - he's vulnerable, scared, hurt, and so unbearably sweet it makes me melt. I'm sure that big, scary, deadly you is _also_ real - but you've let that side of you engulf anything that so much as hinted at the vulnerable you. Because you knew that if you were vulnerable, you would get hurt…

Don't go there, Seb, or you'll start crying again...

It's so incredibly endearing that you trust me enough to show me that side... after I showed you my vulnerable side, which is also quite unthinkable...

It's two new men here, unknown to each other and even to themselves, very carefully exploring what this is without making it blow up, which it is likely to do with two such volatile and deadly creatures. Thank you, Jim, for putting this trust in me...

And for letting me fuck that delicious arse. Because this already sweet deal is made infinitely sweeter by the feeling of you all around me... and you are enjoying my hand on you as well...

Shall we see what happens if we climax? Will we be embarrassed in the afterglow, turn away from each other, or be all cuddly and sweet words?

Let's find out...

I move faster, let my hand go faster too, look at your beautiful face - the face of the _real_ you, so gorgeous in your pleasure - and without warning my orgasm engulfs me, makes me moan out your name as I plunge deep inside you, as my hand tightens around you.

"Jim..."

 

 

_“Oh god, Sebastian...” I gasp, feeling your hand gripping on my cock. I look up at your face, in the throes of ecstasy._

_*Mine*, I think adoringly - and this makes me tumble over the edge, a mass of shivering, shuddering, gasping ecstasy. I’m making high-pitched noises that would have appalled me in the past (even ten minutes in the past!), but *trust*... oh, trust in you is like a net to catch me whenever I feel like I’m about to hurtle through a dark, endless chasm. I’m swept up in an orgasm I’ve never experienced before, and it seems to move endlessly through me. When my violent shaking has subsided, aftershocks still move through me and I feel my heart pounding against yours._

_“Fuck...” I gasp. “*Fuck...”_

_I look at you in shock. I can just have *this* now??_

_My lips seek out yours and I kiss you deeply._

 

 

Your orgasm is incredibly intense. I wonder if you've just always held back in the past? Climaxing is vulnerable, in a way... Showing your enjoyment to another, letting your body go into spasms and groans...

I watch you in silent wonder as I see you travel through this, convulsing with your pleasure, your face contorted almost like you're in pain, your sounds unlike any I've ever heard you make. I gently hold your shrinking cock as you slowly come down, looking dazed, with the occasional tremble running through your body. My beautiful love...

You pant "Fuck," and look at me in shock.

Shit.

Too much?

Do you regret it now, the things said in the heat of passion, in the daze of alcohol; regretted in the sudden sobriety that can sometimes follow orgasm? Are you going to turn away, say you didn't want this?

Before my heart can jump into the tar pit of despair it's pulled up for itself, you lean up and kiss me deeply and sweetly, and the tar pit dissolves, heavenly choirs singing Hallelujah instead.

This clearing in the Cairngorms is now officially hallowed ground, the site of one of those old-fashioned bona fide miracles that the Catholic Church is so fond of - Paul's conversion on the road to Damascus is child's play compared to James Moriarty confessing his love for another human. I'll get in touch with the Vatican tomorrow. Too bad they already have a Saint Sebastian.

Your lips move away from mine and you're looking at me with an unreadable expression - trepidation, affection, timidity... all completely out of place in those black eyes, but so endearing...

I stroke your dark hair, press a kiss to your forehead.

"How are you feeling, my dark prince?"

 

 

_*Feeling?* Not something I’ve been conscious of since childhood... But I’m feeling *so many* things now, maybe it would help to differentiate one from the other. I take a deep breath. “Like... I’ve been through the emotional equivalent of a meat grinder. Drained. Sexually fulfilled at a level I didn’t know existed. *Raw*. *Vulnerable*. *Clingy*..._

_What the hell, Sebastian? How is it possible to feel so many things at once?? Basically, I feel like a *mess*. I’m dreading the hangover in the morning, but I’m *so* looking forward to massacring those fuckers - it’ll shut these *feelings* off for a bit.” I look at you. “And - I still feel scared, and... madly in love. Emphasis on *madly*. You’re in for it, Sebastian. But this is all your fault, so... it’s your mess to clean up!” I glare at you and then giggle, despite myself. “I’m also still rather drunk...”_

 

 

Wow. I've never heard you use so many words for emotions before. I'm still holding you close, and when I hear you say 'vulnerable' and 'clingy', I pull you even closer.

"I promise I'll clean up any mess you make, my dear... I'm madly in love too. And I assure you, there's no need to be scared... I will always be yours, Jim. And I'll admit, I have no experience with all this... but I will do my utmost to not hurt you, and make you as happy as I can. If I do end up hurting you, I promise it's through ignorance, not malice. So please, if I do, tell me, and I'll amend whatever it is that hurt you.

So - will you please _listen_ to me tonight, unlike last night, and drink some water with sugar and salt before bed, to lessen your hangover in the morning? Also, I'll have to dry out our sleeping bag... fortunately I put pinecones in the fire, they give off a good hot glow without flaming; if I hang it near that it should be dry soon... And wait -"

I get up and get the wet wipes out of the saddle bag, wipe you clean, kissing you. You seem to be getting cold now the heat from our passion has cooled down somewhat - after I've cleaned you, I wrap the dry sleeping bag around you and you shuffle closer to the fire, as I rig up a washing line and hang the wet sleeping bag as near the fire as I dare without risking it bursting into flames.

 

 

_I let you clean me up, watch as you take care of our wet sleeping bag situation. My beautiful soldier man who knows how to take care of everything, I think glowingly._

_“Yes, I will drink your disgusting hangover prevention...” I mumble, scratching my arm absentmindedly. Then I scratch harder, feel the raised bump on my skin and look at it in alarm._

_“Sebastian! Something bit me!!” I announce, outraged._

 

 

"Yes, me..." I grin, turning around.

Oh. You look genuinely upset.

"Sorry boss, but that's bound to happen if you lie around naked in the woods near a fire... I lit a mosquito coil, but there's only so much it can repel. I'll get you some afterbite," I say, rummage in my wash bag for the stick. "Here you go - rub that on it, it should alleviate the itching."

I don't want this night to end, and it's only - I look at my phone - midnight - oh yes - sun sets later up here... but I guess we'd better get some water into you and go to bed if we want to be fresh and violent in the morning.

I don't acknowledge the fear in my stomach - I don't - I won't mention it - definitely not -

"Jim... will you still love me in the morning?"

 _Thanks_ , vocal cords. You're supposed to obey the brain.

 

 

_I’m rubbing the spot on my arm with the silly little stick, feeling very grumpy. I’m noticing *more* raised bumps and I’m about to loudly voice my displeasure when I hear your question. My mouth drops open. And then I drop the stick._

_“Sebastian, I - “ I stop, and swallow hard. “God, I’m - scared of the same thing, Tiger... I never even *wanted* love, and now I’m terrified of losing it? I avoided it like an unpleasant disease, because the thought of depending on someone is horrific! But I can’t imagine waking up and not *wanting* you anymore. You make me want to sit in your *lap*! With your *arm* around me! I used to think a ‘happy place’ was the stupidest, most inane thing I’d ever heard. But I understand it now... how would I not want the one thing that’s ever made me feel good and safe and loved? God, I wish I could keep my mouth shut...” I say helplessly. “I feel like I’m saying way too much and I can’t stop...”_

 

 

In one big stride I am over at your side, have pulled you up, onto my lap, both arms around you. "Jim... my sweet Jim, I will _always_ want to make you feel good and safe and loved... you always _will_ be loved, and as safe as possible, when I'm around... I swear...

It's scary for me too, but the thought of _not_ having your love is so much scarier... Can you imagine going back? Crawling back into your armour, not having... this?"

 

 

_“I would never want that,” I say slowly. “But - I can’t promise my armour won’t come back, at least partly... I’ll still want you, but I think it will be harder to express myself...” My breath catches in my throat. “What am I supposed to do about that?? I can’t just drink all the time, Tiger! But *no*, I don’t want to lose this...” I wrap my arms around your neck, and sigh deeply._

 

 

My heart clenches at your mention of your armour coming back. Will I be able to tear it down again without the help of magical forests and gallons of wine?

"I don't know, Jim... I don't know how you work. I can't imagine living inside such a fortress as you, and carrying it around with you. I don't want to constantly keep you drunk... is there anything I can do, or say, anything that you find particularly endearing? To remind you of how good it is to let me inside that armour?"

I look into your beautiful dark eyes, the glow of the fire reflected in them, stroke your hair, your cheek... I couldn't bear being denied this now I’ve seen it...

 

 

_Oh god, you look so sad, so pained at the thought..._

_Did I do that?? Fuck!!_

_“Tiger, I don’t want to be the cause of that look on your face! I didn’t mean I’d be a cold monster like I was before... but I’ve been ridiculously expressive from bucketfuls of wine, and all this fucking ambience... can I do *this* when I’m sober and controlling the Empire? Will I be a romantic, weepy sweetheart when I’m back home? I feel like such a high-maintenance, clingy mess! Do you like mess? Is that what you want, Sebastian?” I ask wistfully._

 

 

"Jim... you're not a mess. Yes, you are high-maintenance, but you've always been. And - I don't think you would want to be like this when you're sober and controlling the Empire. I think it's going to be a case of... being different in one situation than another - feeling different in different situations. I mean - I'm not you, but tomorrow when we're working, I don't think I'll be tempted to run over to you and start cuddling and kissing. I'll be focussed on keeping you safe, killing the right guys, keeping an eye on escape routes, that kind of thing. I'll still be in love with you - but it will not be at the forefront of my mind. But when we get back to the hotel..."... where we had a very sweet night as well, it wasn't just here in the magic forest - "I'll likely want to hug and kiss and say how amazingly sexy you are when you're murdering people, that kind of thing. Does - that sound like something you might like as well?"

I feel again like I'm explaining human nature to an alien, but dammit Jim, I don't know how you work...

 

 

_I'm listening as best I can, but it's such a strange concept to me. I blink at you, perplexed._

_"It's so bizarre... I'm used to being one way. *One*... the way that I run my Empire is the way that I dominate someone... the way that I fuck you. It's cold, it's brutal... but the simplicity has an elegance to it, no? This switching behaviours by situation and by people is odd to me... but I suppose I can try it tomorrow..." I say dubiously. "Murder, murder, kill, kill... and then we kiss? I do like the kissing..."_

_I look up at you, and take your face in my hands._

_"I can say with confidence that I will want to kiss you, Sebastian... as often as possible."_

_My mouth seeks out yours, and I kiss you longingly._

 

 

Honey, you switch behaviours like nobody's business - but I see, they're _behaviours_. Surface. The cold hard core inside stays the same.

And now I'm asking you to switch between cold and hard and warm and soft? Why not ask for the moon on a stick while I'm at it?

I have no idea if you'll be able to do this, Jim... But I'll be a cranky and sullen Tiger for a bit if you withdraw this from me again. And a sad sobby Tiger when you're not looking...

"I want your kisses, Jim. I want everything you have, everything you are, warts and all. Because you are the most amazing man who's ever walked this sad ball of dirt, and I am a greedy predator who isn't able to let go once he's smelled the blood. I'm going to hold you and kiss you until you are able to melt without draining half an off-licence..."

I bury my head in your neck. God, this is so incredible... the most intelligent, mysterious, ruthless, genius man on the planet saying he loves me? Like I would _ever_ be able to let that go...

 

 

_"*Warts?* What a thing to say, Sebastian," I protest. "Severe dysfunctions and disorders, I'll give you. Very disagreeable qualities, absolutely. But there is no equivalent to a goddamn wart... on my person or in my psyche, *thank you very much*..." I cuff you on the arm, probably harder than I need to._

_"Oh, but everything else you said... sounds *lovely*, darling... I don't *want* to be a cold monster, I promise you. I'm going to do my very best to be the sweetest monster I can be..." I cover your face with kisses._

 

 

"I didn't mean actual _warts_. Your skin is _perfect_ , except for that scar on your side from before I was around to grasp any knife before it could get anywhere near you... and even that makes you just a bit more sexy... It's just infuriating to think that you got hurt."

I nuzzle your jaw. "You can be as monstrous as you like... as long as you are not cold, I'll be so... very... happy..."

Tears!? Again!?! Is this who I am now? Sebastian 'Sobby' Moran, the Crying Tiger? Get it together, soldier...

I swallow, swallow again, manage to reduce the damage to slightly damp eyes. No use, though... you always see everything.

 

 

_I'm blissing out as you nuzzle my face, when suddenly I register that you're crying. And for some reason it appears that you crying or being upset makes me *panic*._

_You're pulling yourself together, and staunching the flow of tears, but my panic does not subside._

_What did I do? It must have been me... What can I do to fix this?_

_Problem: You don't like me being cold to you. The thought of me being cold, and losing the warmth we have here, makes you cry._

_Solution:..._

_Solution: ???_

_*Solution*: Stop - being cold - to Tiger?_

_(Brilliant. You *are* a genius...)_

_But what if I feel the same way as always when I wake up?_

_Would I be ok with Tiger feeling sad about that? Even if he doesn't express it?_

_No… *No*._

_Problem: Sad Tiger makes Jim sad._

_Solution: DON'T MAKE TIGER SAD. (*Eejit*.)_

_Conclusion: Stop being cold to Tiger!!_

_"Sebastian..." I say slowly. "I won't. I'll stop being cold... somehow. I don't want you to be sad. And I don't want to be sad. So... I'll find a way. All right?" I look at you, worried. "Please don't be sad...Please."_

 

 

Oh Jim... precious sweet adorable Jim...

"I'm not sad... I'm not. Honestly. I've never been so happy... I'm sorry, I'm a soppy Tiger... It'll be alright... If you can be... not cold - then I'll be the happiest man in Britain, Jim..."

I cuddle you onto my lap, kiss your neck.

If this could last until the morning... and longer... god, I can't imagine. I'm so devoted to you; it's not strange that I've fallen in love with you... but _you_ falling in love with _me_... It's unfathomable. But it's happened, and I'll do everything I possibly can to keep this unexpected gift from the gods...

And it looks like you want to, as well. I smile at you. My precious, beautiful Jim…

 

 

_What is it about sitting on your lap, feeling your arms around me? I feel something very adolescent, a mad swoony infatuation that's burning up everything in its path - everything that's not you and feelings for you. There's a *gorgeous*, *tall*, *strong* soldier, with pretty golden hair and bright blue eyes, and he's staring at me like I'm the most beautiful thing in all creation, and it’s making me feel so *dreamy* and *happy*, and Jesus God, let this not be from all the wine and woodland ambience, because I want to *take him home with me*... I mean, I know he'll be coming home with me because he lives with me and sleeps with me, anyway..._

_I start to laugh again, and you look at me in confusion. "We live together, we shag, we sleep together, we do almost everything together... and when we’re not together, we're constantly texting, sexting, Skyping, sending dirty pictures... and I demanded that you sleep with no one else from the very first time we fucked... and I really thought you were just my employee...?? I'm such a *fucking* moron... Sebastian... what do you want us to be? What word do *you* like?"_

 

 

I...

My mouth falls open during your monologue. You -

Wow.

I had thought those things - and I _knew_ I wasn't just your employee - but I didn't go so far as to think that I was anything -

anything there is a word for. Boyfriend. Partner. Lover...

I was _yours_ \- _am_ yours. But what are you to me? Boss. Sir. Lord and master...

"I... I don't know, Jim. I know I'm yours. Always have been, always will be. But what _we_ are..."

Am I _seriously_ in the middle of Scotland on a sleeping bag near a fire in the woods discussing 'What are we' with the most dangerous criminal in Britain?!

It must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

"I... don't know, Jim. I don't know what we will be, after this. Before - I was more than your employee, but - there wasn't a love relationship between us. Not one that people would class as such. Not one that _we_ classed as such. We were - lovers, maybe. In the sense of - people who shag regularly.

What I'd _like_ to be - partners? I mean - I don't need an _equal_ relationship. It's not who we are - you're a leader, I'm a follower. You're a dominant sadist, I'm a submissive masochist. You're the boss, I'm your second in command. That's all fine, and I don't want to change that. I just want - I just want you to care about my feelings, not dismiss them. Listen to what I have to say, and consider it. Not - not dismiss me."

I look at you, apprehensively. Did that go too far?

 

 

_I smile at you. “Oh... I thought maybe there was a word you liked... Maybe dreamed of, or couldn’t admit you wanted. I just wanted you to know you could voice it. That I would hear it...”_

_I run my hand through your hair. “Maybe it *is* partners? Maybe we don’t have to choose it right now... I guess I thought - if we had something to take with us into tomorrow morning, it would help._

_But at the very least - yes, Sebastian. I *do* care about your feelings. It actually upsets me greatly to think of you feeling sad, especially because of my actions. I won’t dismiss you, and I’ll listen to you._

_Obviously I can’t say that I’ll be perfect! This is all completely new to me... I have a lifetime of being a psychopath and a cruel little fucker to try and combat, when it comes to you. But - I guess what it comes down to is that I like how this feels. And I want more._

_That’s something even my psychopathic brain can understand - Want Sebastian. Need Sebastian. Keep Sebastian happy. I’m sorry, that sounds utterly ruthless, and not in the least bit romantic. There’s more to my feelings for you than that, I promise you - but my brain tends to distil things to their essence. But it will keep me from going back to what I was before, if that helps...”_

_I look at you, and continue to caress your hair. Fuck - I do sound like a monster. I *am* a monster. Did I say too much??_

 

 

That is... that is so sweet...

"There's no word I really like, or have dreamed of... I only fell in love with you yesterday, remember? I haven't been pining for you for years... well, maybe a little bit... Anyway. It was only yesterday that I _realized_ I was in love with you.

As to words... I'm afraid the English language is lacking. Boyfriend sounds too childish. Lover... sounds like it's just the sex. I like 'partner', I guess... Partners in crime," I grin. "Shall we go for that? James Moriarty and his partner, Sebastian Moran? Sounds delicious to me...

And 'want Sebastian, need Sebastian, keep Sebastian happy' is the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me, hands down... Don't sell yourself short, Jim. You're doing great."

I stroke your neck, your soft soft hair, kiss your cheekbone.

"I'm sorry I was scared - it's just not something we usually do, and... I couldn't bear to lose it. But I know you, and if you've set your mind to something, you're not one to let it go. So I'll trust you will still love me... tomorrrrow," I sing, making you giggle. You are so utterly adorable when you giggle...

"Shall we head to bed, my love?" I ask, boldly. I touch the other sleeping bag - it's nearly dry, and nicely warm.

 

 

_“I suppose...” I hesitate, and don’t move from your lap. “I wish we could stay up all night, Tiger... I know we can’t - have to be fully charged for killing. But this place feels so magical (yeah, I know - it’s weird for me hearing it too)... and I almost wish we didn’t have to return to the real world. But maybe it will feel different being... partners?” I ignore the cognitive dissonance in favour of kissing your neck, and feel *very* pleased when I see you shiver. I want to make you shiver again and again..._

_“I may deny saying this in the morning...” I whisper in your ear. “...but there’s a very young part of me who I thought had died a long time ago, who *likes* the idea of having a big, strong, protective boyfriend. Sebbie... I *may* be thinking of you this way, secretly...” I lick your earlobe, and you shiver again._

 

 

I shiver when you kiss my neck, and again when I hear your words -

oh god I'm getting a lump in my throat at the image of a young small Jimmy Moriarty wishing he had a big strong Tiger boyfriend to protect him... I want to go back in time and be that boyfriend and beat up everyone who ever hurt you.

"Jim - that's -

There's absolutely no need to think of me secretly. If you want a big strong protective boyfriend, a big strong protective boyfriend you shall have. Even better - a big strong protective boyfriend who's trained for many years to be the fastest, deadliest boyfriend you could want. _And_ he can build fires. And - don't tell Jim this, but I would be _so_ proud to be the boyfriend of the most beautiful, sexy, dangerous little boy on the planet..." I whisper in your neck.

 

 

_This time it's my turn to shiver._

_*Boyfriend*..._

_*Big*._

_*Strong*._

_*Protective*._

_*DEADLY*..._

_*BOYFRIEND*..._

_A smile slowly spreads across my face. "Well, I have it on good authority that would make a certain murderous little scamp *delighted*, Tiger..." I purr, burying my face in your hair._

_I squirm with pleasure as you nuzzle my neck, and another giggle escapes me._

 

 

Jim Moriarty, you're the _cutest_ psychopathic murderer I've ever met.

"I'll be anything you want, murderous little scamp..." I murmur against your neck.

I can't help it, it's the night, the stars, the fire... I am overcome with romanticism and feel so utterly madly in love...

"I'll be your boyfriend, holding your hand, kissing you...

I'll be your sniper, killing anyone you point at...

I'll be your sex slave, crying out under your whip, writhing in your restraints...

I'll be your lover, holding you in my arms as we fall asleep after some amazing sex...

I'll be your assassin, removing any obstacle in your way...

I'll be your partner, making tea for you and rubbing your feet after a long day...

I'll be your friend, talking with you, laughing with you...

I'll be anything you want, do anything you want, Jim... I'm yours, forever..."

 

 

_As you speak, my eyes are growing wider..._

_and my heart is opening..._

_there's that scorpion sting of love again - but if I breathe through it, it becomes more effervescent - like a sparkling stream... or bubbly champagne..._

_"I want *all* of those things..." I inform you, grasping your hand. "I think there's only one word that sums up everything and it's *Tiger*. My Tiger, my Tigger! I don't want to be my own, all alone anymore... I want - to be yours, too..."_

_And with that the remaining metal barricade over my heart falls away with a spectacular crash. I know it will remain in place for the rest of the world... but not for you, my darling..._

_"What should we do after our killing spree tomorrow, Tigger?" I ask, wrapping my arms around your neck._

 

 

I’m holding you so close, as my brain, heart, entire being tries to process what you just said.

‘I want to be yours...’

You, James Moriarty, the world’s cruellest cold-hearted criminal, wants to be _mine_...

This god among men... devil in a Westwood suit... the man who stole the Koh-i-Noor one year and hung it in our Christmas tree... the man who can make people cry just by looking at them... this man who I’ve been born to serve, who is the beacon I set my sail to...

_mine?!_

It’s like hearing the sun say that he likes your warmth too... like hearing the storm compliment your strength...

... saying that he doesn’t want to be alone any more.

With a surge of love that is so overwhelming it nearly chokes me, I hug you as hard as I dare. When my voice finally gets under control again, I swear, “You’ll never be alone again Jim... not until the day I die... and I might even come back to haunt you...”

 

 

_"Promise?" I find myself asking, even though I don't *believe* in promises of love, I *don't*..._

_"I have never in my life believed that people can make these kinds of claims for the future," I say in a low voice. "It's ridiculous to be asking after one day! And you should know better, Sebbie! But I *don't care*, and I want it..." I clutch your arms hard. "I *want it*, Tiger!"_

 

 

“Jim...” I shake my head, “It’s hardly been one day, has it? I’ve been yours for a long time now... I _know_ I’ll never leave. You’re all I live for, have been from the beginning... and you know this. You’ve never questioned your ownership of me. Don’t question my devotion and love. I don’t fall in love easily... have never fallen in love as an adult. I promise you, Jim, I’m yours until the end of time. I could never, would never want to be, anything else.

Besides,” I grin, “you’d kill me if I ever left you...”

I kiss your forehead. You are being so sweet and insecure... it tugs at my heart. I just want to be everything you need...

 

 

_“Maybe just stalk you to the ends of the earth and kill anyone who comes near you... hard to say, really...” I say darkly, then give you a sweet smile. “Oh, but this is so much lovelier! Let’s not find out - ever, ever...”_

_I rest my head on your shoulder, and it feels like everything clicks into place._

_“I shall not question your love and devotion, my darling,” I say solemnly. “So - this is it then, Tigger?” I look up at you, staring into your eyes. “I guess camping wasn’t so bad, in the end... marshmallows... stars... and my very own Tiger boyfriend. You might have mentioned that from the beginning...”_

 

 

"I wasn't aware it was in the offering, Kitten - it never really came up during Boy Scouts _or_ SAS," I grin, "Though I did see a leopard once during jungle training. I didn't ask it out though..."

You seem so inordinately pleased to have a boyfriend... I wonder if that's to do with the wine or if you will still refer to me as such in the morning. If so, it'll be a badge I'll wear with the utmost honour.

_My boyfriend, Jim Moriarty..._

_This is my boyfriend, Sebastian Moran._

Warmth spreads through me as I think of those words, and I stroke your hair. I feel so incredibly protective of you at the moment... I almost wish something would come and attack us so I could wrestle it bare-handed and be rewarded by your praise and admiration... unfortunately there are no bears here, and itinerant axe murderers are unlikely...

 

 

_I sit with my head on your shoulder for a long moment. In the light cast by the fire, I trace the lines on your palm, and stroke your fingers. Then I turn your hand over and press my lips to it. "I guess we could go to bed, Sebbie. I really don't want this night to end, to be honest... but it doesn't seem like either of our feelings will vanish by morning. So... I guess it's safe."_

_Feeling mournful, I return to staring at the fire. Then a thought flashes through my mind and my head pops up. "I know, Tiger! Let's decide on something fun to do after we murder those fuckers. Aren't boyfriends supposed to take you out on dates?"_

 

 

“What, a good old-fashioned killing not good enough?” I grin. “And here I thought I’d picked the perfect date! Bonding, sharing an activity we both enjoy, where we can show off our skills, out in nature... “

But I’m touched deeply by your inner teenager coming out, wanting a boyfriend to go on dates with. I don’t suspect you ever had that, did you, Jim...

I look at your face in the firelight, try to see the young boy in there, not yet hiding behind the arrays of masks; sweet, scared, insecure, brave, determined, secretly longing for a big strong caring Tiger. You were so strong, young Jim... building that entire Empire all on your own, making the whole world tremble at your sight, making an elite soldier worship at your feet... and all this time you felt so alone... and I didn’t see it; was too overawed at you to realize that you sometimes just needed to relax, with someone to hold you...

I will hold you till the end of times, Jim...

I know I can’t sing, and it’s the most ridiculous idea ever, me singing to the most dangerous man in the world, but right now you’re not a dangerous man, you’re a sweet little boy, _my_ boyfriend, and I just need to let these feelings out or they’ll consume me...

With a hoarse, raspy voice, which I hope the heartfelt sincerity will make up for, I sing.

“ _When you’re weary... feeling small..._

_When tears are in your eyes, I’ll dry them all._

_I’m on your side, when things get rough_

_And friends just can’t be found,_

_Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down..._ ”

 

 

_As you speak, it comes to me - how excited you'd been when you'd come up with this plan, when you were trying to convince me how wonderful camping would be, when you were packing for the trip... how you took care of everything down to the last detail, and prepared a wonderful dinner with the wine I liked. This had been a romantic evening (at least your hope for one) from the very beginning..._

_*Oh, Seb*..._

_and I'd just been too blind to see it..._

_You're staring at me now, thinking. You seem so moved, so in awe..._

_What are you going to say??_

_You don't say anything..._

_Instead you start to sing._

_*What*??_

_My mouth falls open and I freeze._

_I'm sitting on the lap of my adoring Tiger boyfriend - watching by firelight as he sings to me._

_Oh, Seb... no..._

_A tear rolls down my cheek as you continue to sing._

 

"Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down…

 

When you're down and out… when you're on the street

When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you…"

 

_A tiny, shuddering sob is heard amidst the trees._

_A criminal psychopath weeps while his boyfriend sings tenderly by a glowing fire._

_Oh, *Seb*..._

_One hand covers my mouth, and the other holds onto yours for dear life..._

 

 

Oh my god - you’re crying?! I’m making my dear sweet Jim cry with my singing - and it’s not because of my poor voice... I’m actually moving you to tears with my song...

I don’t care that I cannot hold a tune, I am going to sing for you whenever I can... or maybe only when we’re both drunk.

“ _I’ll take your part, oh, when darkness comes... and pain is all around_...”

I’m choking up now, seeing your tears, thinking of the lyrics applying to you, my sweet, precious, delicate boyfriend...

“ _Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down_...”

I will, Jim. I’ll be your support, whatever you need. If that means lying across a murky stream and letting you walk over me - no problem at all...

“ _Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down_...”

 

 

_I’m trembling as I listen to you, and raw emotion builds in me like a tidal wave..._

_Oh no... How can I contain *all this feeling* in one small body?_

_It would take such strength to keep me from shattering at the strain, crumbling into a million pieces._

_Thank Christ I have such a strong, protective Tiger with his arms around me, sheltering me from the raging storm that wants to break in me and *break* me... but you won’t let it, will you Tiger?_

 

“Sail on silver boy”

_(I chuckle through my tears at the substitution... well, at least you didn’t call me silver girl...)_

“Sail on by

Your time has come to shine

All your dreams are on their way

See how they shine”

_I feel a shiver move through me. Dreams? I have known only nightmares... do I get to dream now, Tiger?_

“Ohh, if you need a friend”

_*God*, yes..._

“I'm sailing right behind”

_You are always behind me, Tiger... every step of the way._

_And now I know there is no need to fear your feelings changing in the morning, or the next day, or any day of your life._

_Tears are streaming freely down my face. I stare at you as you sing to me and I place a trembling hand over your heart._

 

 

Jim, my Jim... My beautiful Jim...

You're crying, and I'm holding you, and I never wanted to make you cry, but it's good now, it's good crying... it's my sweet young Moriarty who's never had a boyfriend, or someone to care for him, crying over the fact that he finally has both...

I love you so much right in this moment that it _hurts_ , it physically hurts. I don't know what to do except hold you as close as I can.

I finish the song, keep stroking you, kiss your cheek, tasting your tears - not something I'd ever thought I'd do - fucking hell.

Yeah, we've definitely fallen through a dimensional hole or something.

Meanwhile, you seem more vulnerable than I've ever seen you, and I feel so privileged to be allowed to watch this side of you, which I'm positive no one has ever witnessed ever, at least not in living memory.

I hold you close; between me and the sleeping bag you're snugly wrapped up, nothing is going to get at you, not now, not ever. Not with your Tiger to protect you.

 

 

_My crying subsides, and now there's only the sound of sniffles and the crackling fire._

_"I guess we should go to bed..." I say grudgingly._

_I watch as you gather the now-dried sleeping bag ("You had only yourself to blame for that, Tiger..." I say smugly), and put out the fire._

_This sets off inconsolable weeping, which I can't explain beyond, "It was where you told me you loved me, and now that fire will never *exist* again!"_

_You do your best to comfort me, but the sight of you pouring water over the glowing embers is too much to take._

_"We - don't - even have a real fireplace - Tiger - " I sob, and you kiss away my tears and take me by the hand into the tent. "When - will - we ever have - fire again!?"_

 

 

Oh god you're drunker than I thought. Or you are so lost with all these feelings that you'll cry at anything...

"I will make us a fire in the morning, Kitten... I'll cook your breakfast on it. It'll be a lovely fire, and I'll tell you I love you again..."

I zip the two sleeping bags together, hug you close inside.

 

 

_Once again, I’m sniffling against your chest. I bury my face in your hair and breathe in your scent as you hold me._

_Never in a million years could I have expected any of that to happen. And I evaluate all potential outcomes in any situation I might find myself - this would *never* have crossed my mind... ever, ever!_

_I run my hand over your face, tracing your features in the darkness._

_“Sebbie... I keep asking you what you want to do after work tomorrow, and you haven’t answered,” I complain. “It will be our very first day as boyfriend and boyfriend and *I* want to do something fun...”_

 

 

"Of course, my lovely boyfriend..." I murmur into the dark, at my _boyfriend_ Jim Moriarty, in our tent. "We can do whatever you like. It's a beautiful area - we can go hiking one of the trails, climb a mountain, go kayaking... end up at a distillery and watch the sun go down with a wee dram or two... We can go back to Inverness and look for Nessie in the Loch... But I think it's traditional for boyfriends as well as axe murderers to go walking in the woods, so we can be both at the same time..."

 

 

_Oh, *no no no*, darling..._

_"Why, hello - have we met? Jim Moriarty... pleased to know you," I slide my hand in yours and shake it._

_"I'm a criminal mastermind. I fancy BDSM, and the finer things in life - tailored suits, fine food and wine. I like cats. A lot. I do *not* go kayaking or climb mountains. I prefer my physical activity to take place in the boudoir. Even hiking is a stretch, although I'd consider it only for *you*... if we can actually spend some time in civilization after. Climb a mountain, Seb? Really??" I nestle closer to you happily, breathing in your scent._

 

 

Oh. You have not _quite_ changed your entire personality then. Good. I wouldn't want to be worrying too much about potential mind loss whilst enjoying my new boyfriend.

"Oh yes, I forgot... my beloved is a city boy," I smile. "Alright then. After our killing, if the weather is nice, I ride us to an easy hiking trail and we walk round a bit. Then we go back to Inverness, have a long and leisurely soak in the hot tub in our suite, and then some unique boyfriend quality time... during which BDSM would be very welcome...

Then we have a quick shower, get dressed and go have food - not in a posh ostentatious restaurant like last night, but in a cosy place with wooden beams and a fireplace, where we can have an oaken table in a nook and hold each other's hands and feed each other ice cream and be all insufferably cutesy without anyone saying anything about it... and then have a whisky in comfortable chairs in front of the fire, rubbing our feet against each other, until it's eleven and they close, and we walk back to the hotel, hand in hand, and cuddle up in the big bed.

Sound better?"

 

 

_A slow smile is spreading across my face as you speak, and by the end I'm beaming. It's a shame you can't see it - I think it would warm your heart. I'm feeling like a swoony adolescent, and in the morning I'll have to get *some* kind of control over myself - I think? But right now it's night time, baby - and in a strange series of events, I find myself drunk and in love in a goddamn forest in the Cairngorms. So there will be no control happening here - I have my arms wrapped around your neck, and I'm kissing your face, and whispering "Sounds perfect, Tigger... I accept your invitation!" and feeling downright giddy about having a date to look forward to. The Moriarty part of me is disgusted and sulking somewhere, and for once I don't *fucking care*._

 

 

You sound happy. I don't think I've ever heard you truly happy. Gleeful, yes, but happy? If that is something I can accomplish, then... I have found my purpose in life.

I hold you close, kiss your forehead.

"Are you warm enough, my love? I will just nip out, check that the fire is truly out... I'll be back in a second."

I head outside, to the stream, put my beers on the bank, recover the remaining bottle of wine.

So - I'm crazy. That's alright - so are you.

I open the bottle, pour a glass, put it among the roots of a tree. Look at the bottle, leave it open beside it.

Enjoy, magical creatures who enchanted my Jim and gave me the best night ever...

 

 

_I wait for you to return, trying not to get anxious. But I still breathe a sigh of relief when you return._

_"Sleep now, Tigger?" I murmur, as you settle in and pull me against you. I don't want to sleep... I don't want to miss a single moment of this night. But - we are nothing if not professional, and we have people to kill. It won't do to be yawning and half-asleep while on the hunt for dangerous criminals. Or hungover or giggly. Oh, Jesus... This means I have to worry about your safety now! It hits me like a truck slamming into me, and I struggle to catch my breath._

_I think I must have worried on some level before... when I hadn't heard from you while on a job, I would always be agitated, foul-tempered, ready to freak out with violence at the drop of a hat. This feeling has now been amplified times a hundred. A thousand. Infinitely._

_"Promise me you'll be safe tomorrow..." I say urgently, and press my cheek into your chest._

 

 

Suddenly you're clasping me and you sound worried - Jim? Oh sweetie...

"Don't worry, Jim... You haven't killed me in all those years; I doubt any C-class thugs will manage to..." I smile.

"You know me, I'm indestructible... and even more so now. I have a _date_ to get to, with the hottest man in the British Isles. I won't even let them mess up my _hair_. _Or_ yours."

I nuzzle my nose into your hair, smelling deliciously of wood smoke and hair product and _Jim_.

"Sleep now, my Kitten... All will be fine in the morning. I got you..."

 

 

_I let out a long sigh, feeling your nose in my hair. I haven't let go of all my anxiety, but what you said helped... a *lot*._

_"I know you do," I say sleepily. "My indestructible Tiger... I'm looking forward to our date... you may even get lucky..." I think I manage to finish the sentence, but I can't be certain as I'm falling helplessly into blackness._

 


	10. Hungover, Bleeding, and Covered in Forest

You’re falling asleep very quickly - all that emotion must have taken it out of you, my sweet. I lie awake a bit longer, poring over the events of the last two nights in amazement.

Jim. Jim Moriarty. The most dangerous man in London, probably the world. The man I’ve always secretly thought of as superhuman. That man, the most beautiful being I’ve ever laid eyes on, has a human side, which seemed to surprise even him. And he’s managed to release all the layers of armour, all the walls he’s built up, just because I asked... and has shown me the small sweet little kitten that is underneath and it has _undone_ me. I already was utterly devoted to you, but this - this young boy who wants a big strong Tiger to protect him - there’s nothing, _nothing_ I wouldn’t do to keep you safe and well. I’ll wrestle bears bare-handed, take on Satan himself in your struggle for supremacy.

My Jim. _My_ Jim...

Finally I drift off, the sounds of the forest around us, a softy snoring Kitten in my arms, a smile on my lips.

 

 

_There are wildcats pulling me up by the arms... then dragging me over to a picnic blanket. I look down and see I'm dressed as the Mad Hatter. You're waiting for me there, and I recognize you as the Knave of Hearts. The March Hare pours tea for everyone, except he keeps over-pouring and getting the blanket all wet. I'm nervous as hell, and I keep looking around, looking for the guardsmen to show up and arrest you._

_"You shouldn't have stolen those tarts, darling..." I say, wringing out my napkin soaked in tea._

_"I did it for you, sweetheart," you say - just as guardsmen appear through the trees, and take you away in cuffs._

_I stand watching this in horror, wondering why I can't move to stop this. Surely I can stop this?_

_The March Hare *tsks*, and pours tea on my plate of tarts. "Only you could have stopped this... you've gone *soft*, old boy..."_

_I sit with a plate of ruined, soggy tarts on my lap, and fat tears fall from my face in slow motion, obliterating the tarts like bombs._

_"He did it for nothing," I weep. "It was all for *nothing*..."_

_The March Hare tips the teapot over the plate, and a tidal wave of tea comes hurtling towards me._

_"Nothing!!" I scream, and I thrash, suddenly fighting off a heavy flannel cover, and arms that are grabbing me. The guardsmen must have returned to take me to court to testify against you. "I won't testify! I *won't*!!" I cry._

 

 

"Jim! Jim, it's me - it's alright - you're having a nightmare -" I release your arms when I feel you thrash. "Here, let me open the sleeping bag..." You're writhing to get free and I struggle to get to the zip but I manage, throwing the blanket off you. I know how panicked you get when you have a nightmare and you feel restrained in your sleep - you're free now…

"Jim, it's me... it's your Tiger. We're in the woods. Remember? We're in a tent. It's ok. No one is attacking you."

I feel around for a bottle of water, keeping up the reassuring words in a calm voice. It sometimes takes you a while to get back from a nightmare...

 

 

_"Sebbie, why did you have to take them?" I cry out. "I didn't need the tarts..."_

_You look at me with such love and acceptance, and uncap a bottle of water. You hold it to my lips, and I press my hands against your chest._

_"You're so sweet... but I didn't need them..." I murmur, then allow water to flow over my lips. I swallow, and feel refreshing water pour through my parched throat._

_"Tiger..." I whisper. "They didn't get you...?"_

 

 

“No, Jim... they didn’t get me. No one ever gets me - not while you need me,” I say, fondly.

You drink the water, seem to welcome my arms around you, so I hold you close, immensely relieved that you seem to be sweet and loving still, that you apparently dreamed that I was taken away from you (over some tarts?) and that it upset you. Much as I hate to see you upset...

I carefully lean in and kiss your cheek. You let me. I lean your head on my shoulder, kiss your hair. My beautiful crazy criminal little boy...

 

 

_I blink at my surroundings and take in a shaky breath._

_"Tiger... I think we're not in Wonderland any more..." I mumble, and press my shivering body against you._

_The sensation of you holding me, kissing my hair, is soothing - and doesn't allow the feelings of resistance I was expecting this morning. I was sure I would be all 'what have I done!' and 'this can never be!!' and the appropriate histrionics would ensue... But all I feel is fear of anything happening to you._

_"If we're on a job, and you see a plate of tarts and think that might be a nice present for me... just leave them," I mutter, and then groan as a headache rises to greet me._

_"Oh god... cue hangover - again!" I sag against you. "And no, it's not as bad thanks to your witch drink, Tiger..." I say weakly into your chest. "But why do I keep doing this!! I *knew* love makes you a complete idiot..."_

_*Oh*... this was the first time the word was said in a sober state - and it could *not* have sounded louder on this quiet morning in the forest. I lift my head and look at you, not breathing._

 

 

Not in Wonderland any more? What... what does that mean? Do you mean we've moved out of the faerie woodland wonderland of love to... everyday reality again? Where I'm an employee with benefits?

My heart plummets...

You talk about tarts, which doesn't make sense, as I'm trying to swallow the disappointment that is rising up in my throat and threatening to make me burst into tears. For fuck's sake, Sebastian...

Wait - did you say love? In a way that makes it sound like - an immutable fact, inconvenient as it may be? Wait - is it not over? Were you referring to something else?

"Jim - do you still love me?" I blurt out, in a remarkable display of subtlety and guile.

 

 

_I think for a moment - do I? My brain starts to seize this question to analyse it systematically... (Assess evidence. Draw rational conclusions.)_

_But one look at your face has me tossing rationalism aside immediately._

_"Well, I'm clinging to you, and freaking out about you being taken from me in a bad dream. And now I'm freaked out about something possibly happening to you in real life... as if I were dreaming of some kind of *premonition*. I've had a horrific hangover for the past two mornings, because what I was feeling about you was so overwhelming I drank my arse off. And all I want to do is get this killing out of the way, so I can go on a date with you." I take your face in my hands and kiss you. "What the hell else would cause me to be swanning about like an imbecile? Silly Tigger..." I murmur, and nuzzle your face with mine._

 

 

Your face - so close to mine - your words, slowly treacling into my brain - you're being slightly sarcastic, but... you're _worried_ about me, you're overwhelmed by me, you want to be with me... I can feel my eyes get larger with every word you speak, and when you nuzzle me I grasp you as close as I can, push you down onto the sleeping bag, and cover your face in kisses. I can't help grinning broadly - I've _done_ it. I've conquered the unconquerable, loved the unlovable, melted the unmeltable. I have got James Moriarty to love. And not just love, _actually_ admit to loving. Whilst he's not drunk.

I'm floating a foot off the ground, the birds are singing their dawn chorus in the most enchanting melodies just for you and me, your pale skin is luminescent with the bleak light of the dawn, your body glowing with the warmth of pure divinity... I struggle not to burst out in song, or laughing, or something...

 

 

_"Why are you smiling like a loon?" I ask, grinning at you sleepily. "Why aren't you taking care of my hangover? Where's the magnificent breakfast I was promised? Don't make me regret having come on this ridiculous camping trip with you... you big lump," I whisper, my arms wrapping around you._

 

 

"It's a bit early, you little lump..." I smile, grabbing you close. "Come back under the covers where it's warm... Sleep is the best hangover cure."

It's just barely getting light, and I want some more Kitten cuddles. This is the best camping trip ever...

 

 

_"Who are you calling *little lump*? We can't all be big, hulking soldiers..." I huff._

_"But some of us do get to enjoy them..." I run my hands over your chest, and luxuriate in the heat radiating from your body. "Mmm, you're like my own personal furnace. You kept me so lovely and toasty last night... apparently I underestimated the value of Tiger cuddles. And now I have some serious catching up to do..." I press my cheek to your chest, and breathe you in deeply._

 

 

"You do indeed. There's nothing better than Tiger cuddles. But I'll do you a deal - you can get as many as you like for the price of just a Kitten cuddle each. Surely an offer you can't refuse..." I grin.

I can not believe this is happening - you are _here_ , in my arms, have been all night, _cuddling_ ; you're playful, giggling, sweet... I can just kiss you and joke with you without risking rebuke... what decadent luxury.

I kiss your lips, and as I move back I stare in your eyes, black holes in the twilight of dawn, that I lose myself in... irrevocably... lost in the endless expanse of the dark soul of Jim Moriarty... my _boyfriend_.

 

 

_“I can’t refuse it, no... It would be foolish to refuse such an amazing offer. So I’ll take those Tiger cuddles off your hands, and Kitten cuddle payment will be made to your account. But I must warn you, I’ll require a steady supply... so make sure you can keep up with the demand or...” I shake my head sadly. “Terrible... just terrible what could happen. The CEO of Kitten Enterprises is not a nice man. He’s a *psychopath*, you know...” I say in a hushed voice, with wide eyes._

 

 

"No!" I gasp, putting my hand in front of my mouth. "Does that mean I am now beholden to a dangerous psychopath, whose every whim I will have to obey, lest he shall take his awful revenge upon me and my family to the seventh generation?"

 

 

_I laugh cruelly into your neck. "Yes! You're a beholden Tiger now, so you must obey *everything* he says. And he'll probably want to take advantage of you sexually so be prepared for that, too! Oh, there's *no end* to his cruelty and depravity! He can't be stopped!!"_

_I press my lips to your neck and kiss you sweetly._

 

 

"Mmm..." I purr.

It's the middle of the night, Sebastian... You have an assassination in the morning, Sebastian...

"Cruelty - depravity - sexual advantages? Never! He looks so sweet and cute... I refuse to believe it..."

 

 

_“Ignore my warnings at your peril, Sir!” I continue to press kisses along your neck. “Sweet and cute he may appear... but all the better to trick you... all the better to get close to you, my dear!” I lick your neck slowly. “And tell me, good sir - what will you do when it’s too late and the beast is at your throat?” I snap at your neck and hold your flesh in my teeth, growling._

 

 

"Well, I believe I have two choices..." I murmur, "I can lie back and offer my throat to the wolf with the red roses..." even you must get _that_ reference, "or... I can fight back... but I believe it's not wise to fight back when someone has your throat in their teeth... and to be honest..." I lower my voice to a whisper, "I might actually quite enjoy surrendering to cruel and depraved beasts..."

 

 

_I remove my teeth from your neck. “Would you?” I ask, sounding shocked. “Well... I hope you don’t say that to *all* the wolves,” I say slyly. “Because the biggest, baddest wolf of all wouldn’t like that... not a *lick*...” My tongue moves over your throat slowly before I sink my teeth into your neck and press down hard._

 

 

I gasp at your bite - so acute, so sharp, so _delicious_ \- I feel my cock stir; of course, Tiger awakes, Little Seb is never far behind... _especially_ not if there is a delectable wolfkitten in my neck.

You're not letting go, and I moan as the pain sinks in deeper; I can feel my pulse against your teeth, my life caught between your jaws...

 

 

_I feel that intoxicating moment of ‘Do I?’ and then ‘But of course!’ before I feel your flesh rending ever so slightly... just enough to taste that familiar iron tang of your blood. It is certainly not the only blood I've ever tasted, but it leaves all others in the dust. Naturally it's a heady thing, drinking someone's blood - but from the one you *love*... *Damn*, Tiger... it's as if I'm drinking the elixir of life... I moan at the sensation as I suck it from your neck._

_"In the forest at night with the wolf at your throat, do you offer him your blood?" I whisper and lick at your wound._

 

 

"... my blood, my body, my heart, my soul..." I whisper. "All his."

Right now, if I thought it would be beneficial to you, I'd let you drink all my blood, drain me like Dracula. I'm dizzy with how in love I am. I love this forest, I love the Cairngorms, I love the fairies I left an offering to, I love the entire world. Which is quite unusual for the guy who usually wants to shoot everyone.

 

 

_I moan, dizzy with pleasure as I hear your words and suck delicately at your neck._

_"You've done the impossible, you know..." I say softly, raising my head. "No, *really* - Psychopaths don't just - " I gesture at both of us, wide-eyed. "Go all *swoony* and *romantic* and want a *boyfriend*... It's *you*, Sebastian... this wouldn't have been possible with anyone but you." I touch your face, smiling at you. "All because you were so insistent about camping. God, you can be such a pain in the arse, Tiger..."_

 

 

"... only if you want me to..." I grin.

"Jim, I... I don't know what happened. I don't know how on _Earth_ I managed to- make all this happen. If I did. But I have never, never been happier... I don't care if that sounds corny.

You're everything. Everything I've ever wanted, everything I've ever needed... my life had no meaning until I met you. I was just... aimlessly striving, but I didn't know for what. Whatever I did, I felt restless and ill at ease, always looking for the next thing, but then the next thing wasn't what I wanted either...

And then two dark eyes looked at me and said I was going to work for them, and that was it. It was like all my life I'd struggled to make bits fit and had been unable to see the complete picture, and all of a sudden it all clicked together and I knew who I was. What I was meant to be. How all those steps before had worked to make me into who I needed to be: your perfect tool. And then it just deepened gradually - I was yours from the moment I started working for you, but then when you made my body yours - fuck. That was a total turning point in my life - before that, I could maybe have considered doing something else, if I needed... though I didn't want to. I occasionally could still feel desire for others, think of subjects that weren't you. But after that - after that endless night of torture and ecstasy - god. I was yours. You knew it. I knew it. The universe knew it.

And this - this is just a deepening of that. I am still yours, just more so. Where earlier you had me, body, mind, and soul - now you have my heart as well, and I didn't even know I had one to give, or I would have earlier. And - the fact that I have yours - is just - incredible. Overwhelming. I never would have thought of that, wished for it...

But now I have it, I am going to be incredibly possessive and protective of it. Just so you know."

 

 

_I listen to your beautiful words, and blink sleepily against your chest._

_"Mmm... my boyfriend has good words. Almost like he's well-versed in romantic poetry. Ohh, that endless night of torture and ecstasy!_

_I'm not making fun, I'm *agreeing*, Tiger... I'd think you'd be used to everything I say coming across as *bitchy*. And I don't think that will change..." I muse. "I'm still a sadist and a psychopath, after all. It really doesn't say much about your mental health that mine is the heart you want... it's black as pitch, darling! But it does have a soft spot, deep down. For cats." I wait a beat, grinning. "And for a certain Tiger... who won't let me bring home a wildcat. By all means, be possessive and protective. You have my permission to murder anyone who wants to kiss me or kill me... not that you ever cared about my *permission*," I say archly. "Now that I think of all the little accidents people met with who dared flirt with me... Funny, that..."_

 

 

"You employ me as your assassin, I'm going to assassinate," I retort, equally archly. "And I happen to have a soft spot deep down for sadistic psychopaths. To each their own. It's not like cats are much better."

I'm sort of happily horny, but you are looking sleepy, and you look so _incredibly cute_ like this...

I kiss the top of your head, pull you close, and you look up at me with a sleepy smile.

"Shall we sleep a little bit more, my beloved sadistic psychopath?"

 

 

_“Why do you think I like cats so much? Adorable serial killers, the lot of them...” I yawn._

_“Nah. Can’t sleep - too antsy. I don’t know why... wait, let me guess! Having to worry about my boyfriend during a *massacre*! Whose brilliant idea was this?” I growl, and bury my face in your chest. “If anything happens to you, I will murder you *so hard*... you are not allowed to walk away with a *scratch*, Tiger. Do you hear me? No scratches, except from yours truly...” I’m only partly joking. The prospect of you being hurt is making me surly... and oh good, I’m waking up in a tent in the woods. And I have to go find a bush to piss into like a savage, and try not to fall into it. Brilliant..._

 

 

I laugh at that. "Have you ever seen me get hurt?" I kiss your hair - oh god you are worried about me... how incredibly sweet -

Your grumpy "Yes!" makes me chuckle.

"Hurt, yes, but not _badly_... and that was in situations that were much more risky than the one we're going into today. This is going to be a walk in the park... I dispose of the bodyguards, you have a chat with the Gibilisco brothers and Boesch, I dispose of them. Nothing we haven't done a million times, my adorable Kitten... they don't have a clue you're involved, there will be minimal bodyguards, and they won't be very alert... It's a super-secret meeting, they won't be expecting any trouble. Don't worry your pretty head," I smile. You look at me crossly, which is incredibly cute, so I kiss your frown.

I can't believe I can just do this... Any moment you're going to kill me...

 

 

_"Don't worry my pretty head," I mutter. "Because nothing ever goes pear-shaped when it comes to idiots with guns. I don't mean you, darling. But you do rather thrive on danger, don't you... and you always seem to have the most fun when things go terribly wrong..." I look at you suspiciously. "Just... don't take unnecessary risks with my property." I kiss you and give you a stern look. "Stop smiling. I'm not being cute." I roll my eyes and get up, feeling unsteady._

_"Ugh. I'm going to visit the luxury bathroom. If I'm not back in a few minutes, I've fallen into the stream and been eaten by fish."_

_I unzip the tent, and shove my way through the flap._

_My hands fly to my eyes as I step into the light._

_Right._

_Hangover._

_"Oh *god*... who turned on that bloody fireball in the sky!!"_

_I stumble across the campsite towards some large bushes, cursing as I go._

 

 

You're the cutest not-being-cute thing in the world... And if I tell you, I risk dismemberment, so I won't say a thing. I even attempt to stop smiling.

You leave the tent, presumably under the impression that the luxury bathroom will come equipped with all the supplies you need, since you don't take anything with you. I get out a roll of toilet paper, when I hear you cursing the sun. Ah yes... another hungover morning for my poor Boss...

"Jim -"

You look back, eyes shooting daggers. I hand you the toilet roll. You look at it like you want it to burst into flames, but take it, and walk into the bushes, muttering things I probably don't want to hear.

Grinning, I stir up the fire and light the camping stove. If I want to survive the next few hours, there will need to be coffee. Lots of it.

 

 

_Halfway to the bushes, I realize I'm fully naked and wandering through the woods. But if I turn back again... I might just murder you. Instead I keep going, cursing growing louder as I also realize I am walking in bare feet on the *ground*... that's where the *twigs* and *dirt* and *bugs* are!!_

_Almost there..._

_Stepping on a twig unleashes a tirade of angry cursing, and I have to stop myself from stomping the rest of the way to the bushes. When I reach them, I pause... so I'm just supposed to... what? Squat? And *go*??_

_I haven't quite mastered the art of squatting and going... as I'm struggling to balance, the sudden appearance of a caterpillar hanging in front of my face makes me yelp and flail and fall against the bush. And into the lovely, jagged little branches and leaves, which scratch up the entire right side of my body._

_"Jesus *motherfucking Christ*, Sebastian..." I yell at the top of my lungs, as I struggle to get out of the bush and off the ground. "I am *never* listening to you again! If you weren't my fucking boyfriend, I would string you up in between two trees and gut you! No! Tie you down to the ground with stakes and pour honey all over you! You deserve *death by nature* for this!!"_

_Silence. I can picture you laughing... I swear to Christ, if there's as much as a smile on your face when I return... I'm looking for ropes and honey. I don't care if I have to find a beehive and then fight off a colony and its motherfucking queen._

_At the image of emerging victorious over bloodthirsty bees, and arriving at the campsite clutching a sticky beehive for the purpose of Tigricide, I'm soothed enough to stop cursing. I proceed to take care of business out in the wilderness for the very first and last time in my life. I have never been in such an *outlandish* situation, and I'm not entirely sure of the best way to make you pay for this, Sebastian..._

_I march back to the campsite, where you're preparing coffee. Your mouth drops open when you see me. I can only imagine how I look - glowering, covered in bloody scratches and dirt, and oh look, even some leaves sticking to the blood. I snarl, throw the toilet paper roll at you hard, and then continue towards the stream to wash up._

 

 

I believe I hear my name being taken in vain somewhere in the wilderness... I chuckle and grin _now_ , because if I do so when you return, I will make a lovely tigerskin rug.

You come stomping back. I turn to look at you, and - oh god, what happened?!

I catch the toilet roll as you march down to the stream -

"Jim - wait!"

You look at me. I'm used to lethal looks from you, but this is a special category. I'm pretty sure I feel blisters forming.

"Jim - I put a pot on the fire. It's warm - let me wash you with that."

I use some wet wipes to wipe the dirt off, then get a flannel and towel out of the bags, dip the flannel in the warm water, gently wash your scrapes. Oh you poor thing. Urban urchin to cosmopolitan crime lord, you have never spent a day in the countryside, let alone in the woods, have you...

"Coffee is nearly boiling. You're nearly clean. It's going to be fine, Jim."

I'm not calling you bedraggled kitten. I have excellent survival skills.

 

 

_When you call out to me, I'm downright incredulous. Are you *fucking kidding me*? You know me well enough to not get in the way when I'm like this... let alone hungover, bleeding and covered in *forest*._

_Furiouser and *furiouser*... I don't care *what* happened last night, you are playing with fire now, Tiger..._

_But then you utter the magic words: 'let me wash you' and *warm*..._

_I consider the cold stream for less than a second before I head back in your direction, tamping down on my fury._

_I stand in front of you while you work your magic - feeling myself grow cleaner and more soothed as the minutes tick by. With each swipe of a wet wipe or a flannel, I feel less like a ball of rage in Jim-clothing._

_Then you speak another magic word: *coffee*, and I almost weep with relief. *Yes*, you beautiful alchemist, allow me to partake of your beautiful dark elixir that brings with it renewed life force, and the secret to not murdering your boyfriend._

_*Please*..._

_I hold back a sniffle as you continue to clean me._

_Stupid woods... stupid wilderness... and most of all - *stupid bushes*._

_I imagine appearing one day in this very location - wearing a suit, carrying a jerry can and a lighter. And walking away singing Disco Inferno as the bush goes up in flames._

_*Burn Baby Burn*, I hum as you finish cleaning me up._

 

 

You are so much like a cat... I think that Kitten nickname is going to stick. Looking utterly miserable and murderous, then slowly letting yourself be mollified when you're being washed...

You poor thing, what have you done - divebombed some bushes? I carefully clean you up, pick a burr out of your hair, put some disinfectant on the scrapes, and hand you clean clothes.

I make us coffee while you get dressed.

"Instant!?"

"Yes, Jim. I didn't bring the espresso machine. It's fine - it does the job."

You scowl as you huddle down with your cup and I get the sandwiches out.

"Have some breakfast. I'm going to have a wash myself."

The water in the pan is muddy. Oh well - time to show off what a big bad soldier I am. I pick up my towel and walk to the stream, get undressed, and get in.

Ooooooh - yup, that's _cold_. Bloody hell. If you weren't watching, I might decide that I don't need to be clean for this particular kill. But you are. So I don't flinch, and bravely splash water on my chest - hhhhhhaaaaaaa- fuck...

 

 

_I can always trust you to make things better, can't I... under your care, I start to soften slightly, before I remember that you're the one who dragged me into this vicious wilderness in the first place. I glower slightly, and then realize - if you hadn't, I never would have discovered my feelings. We wouldn't have *this*... Of course, all this is nearly negated by being handed instant coffee. I stare at you in indignation, and force myself to drink the watery impostor. When I get to the hotel, I'm going to throw myself on the bed with a room service menu and weep._

_I munch on a sandwich mournfully. I have to admit, everything I've put in my mouth while camping (hah) has been surprisingly good... poor excuse for coffee aside. I watch in fascination as you head to the stream, strip off, and get into the water. Christ almighty... The water looks unpleasantly cold, but you are so - bloody - hot..._

_Sandwich forgotten, lips parted, I watch you bathe. Mmm... *Big*. *Strong*. *Deadly*. *Naked*... *Wet*... *Boyfriend*..._

 

 

Coldcoldcoldcoldcold!!! I take the flannel and start washing - hahhh, that's coooold, but quite bracing...

As I bend over I notice you from the corner of my eye - heh. You are sitting with a sandwich halfway to your mouth, mouth open, eyes wide... like what you see, Kitten?

Cold forgotten and showoff-mode activated, I splash water on myself, soak the flannel and rub it across my chest, make sure you get a good view of my arse as I'm bending in different positions...

I'd be tempted to run over to you dripping wet and hug you, but I might end up hanging flayed from a tree, so I better not; instead just step out of the stream, towel off, and walk back to where your sandwich is still in limbo. I take a playful bite off it.

 

 

_Jesus... of course I know you’re hot, but... there’s something about seeing you do something so rugged and... masculine and... rugged... Like when you were on your motorcycle crossing the stream, but I was too angry then to fully appreciate it. Wait a minute - wasn’t I just angry a moment ago? I check in for signs of fury. Huh. Only signs of lust and desire and..._

_Love._

_It all comes rushing back. I love you._

_Jim loves his Tiger..._

_God... I’m - not used to being me and being in love. How do I navigate that? How do I remember that when I’m being... me?_

_I watch you in a daze as you tear into my sandwich._

_“Mine,” I say archly, and hold it away from you._

_You grin at me as you chew._

_I get up and wrap my arms around a deliciously clean, naked Tiger._

_“Mine...” I murmur, and close my eyes as I lean against your chest._

 

 

Awww, who's a cute possessive kitten...

"Yours," I confirm, wrapping my arms around you.

We stand like this for a moment, not speaking, just holding each other, and it feels... significant. I remember my feelings from two nights ago, how my heart exploded into a million million shining fragments, never to be put together again...

It feels now like a very warm ball, glowing in my chest, pounding with the excitement of being so close to you, being held by you, being... loved by you...

Loved by James Moriarty. Who could ever have conceived of such a wild flight of fancy... surely never I.

Little Seb has decided he's forgiven me for the cold bath and he may just be persuaded to come out to play, if Jim is so inclined. I pull my head back and look at you. Are you too grumpy, or...?

 

 

_I’ve only been allowed to touch you like this since yesterday... (possibly at the hotel too, but - it’s a blur)._

_I don’t think - I’ll ever have enough of this..._

_How solid you feel... how warm..._

_You’re pulling back - why are you taking this away?_

_Oh. I’d recognize that look *anywhere*..._

_Seb is randy._

_Seb is *always* randy..._

_“We just got clean, darling... you want to mess each other up?” I say loftily. “I just want to pack up and leave, so we can get this bloodbath out of the way and return to civilization... and a hotel with room service... and don’t think I’ve forgotten about our *date*...”_

_*Date*... I’ve never been on one before, except when I was playing a role. They were excruciating... but this, with you... I can’t think of anything I’ve wanted more than this, for a very long time..._

_But - my mind starts turning again, considering possibilities as it always does._

_What if the bloodbath went awry? What if something were to happen to one of us? What if -_

_I stare at you, overcome and aghast. I pull you into a kiss, and start moving us towards the tent._

 

 

Aw bugger. You don't want to sully your soft clean skin with sweat and sperm, because what might Giblisco and Boesch think?

But then you mention our date... oh god - a date with Jim Moriarty... my _boyfriend_...

Great, I'm thirteen again.

You're looking at me, and your face changes, from haughty, to sweet, to perturbed - what -

but then you're dragging me into a kiss, and I'm not complaining - and then I'm being dragged to the tent - oh - changed your mind? Realized how irresistible your Tiger is?

But you look - upset - Kitten?

"Jim?" I ask, as you push me down onto the sleeping bag, pull off your top. "Jim, my sweet - what's wrong?"

 

 

_"Hush, nothing's wrong..." I murmur, and pull off my trousers and pants._

_I lie against you, feel your warm, delicious skin against mine. "Absolutely nothing..." I mutter._

_I begin to kiss your neck. "Did you bring any explosives? Can we just detonate the building and go on our merry way? Maybe throw grenades through the window? I don't need to give them a smug scary speech..."_

_I straddle you and my cock rubs against yours. I look down at you, trying not to panic. "Kiss me," I say urgently and lean down to capture your lips._

 

 

No speech?? But - you love the speech; it’s your favourite part of killing. Telling people how you’ve outsmarted them. Watching them cower and plead. Play with them like a cat with a mouse.

I kiss you; your mouth is all urgency, but it’s not sexual hunger, it’s deeper than that - you’re worried.

Oh my sweet darling little Kitten, you’re scared. Scared that I’ll get hurt. Scared that you’ll lose me. Oh you are the most adorable psycho boss I’ve ever had...

I struggle not to start sniggering. You are genuinely upset.

“I didn’t bring any explosives, no... nor a sniper rifle. I’m afraid old-fashioned going in and shooting them is the only option.”

I look at you.

“Jim... you can’t keep me in a glass box. There’s danger everywhere - that’s why you hired me in the first place. But I am very good at not getting hurt. You know that. I’m more at risk crossing the street than going in and subduing a room of guys who don’t expect it. What are you going to do, keep me indoors in a padded cell from now on?

Sweetheart... my gorgeous Jim - I never had anything to live for, and I’m still not dead. Then I met you, found a reason for existence, and became even more lethal. Imagine what I’ll be like when I am waiting to go on a date with the sexiest man in Britain? I’m going to be invincible... You’ve always trusted me to keep you alive. Why don’t you trust me to keep myself in one piece?”

I nuzzle your neck.

 

 

_Oh my god... you just keep getting sweeter. And hotter. And..._

_Your lips are on my neck, and I’m afraid I’m going to burst into flames._

_“I did picture it... Keeping you indoors...” I mutter. “Wearing a nice shiny chain...”_

_“Where would I wear the chain?” you ask innocently._

_“Wherever the fuck I want,” I breathe against your neck._

_I look at you, and a charge goes through us. We lunge at each other, kissing feverishly. My tongue demands entry into your mouth, and you moan in response._

_“Oh *fuck*, Seb...” I groan._

_I grasp your hard cock, and begin to stroke._

 

 

OH, yes, that's better... That's my feral kitten, my beloved psychopath, my masterful Jim...

... and _that's_ his hand on my cock, which is _divine_.

I groan as you grasp me, hard, and reach for you - oh fuck Jim, my love, my _love_... I can _say_ that now... for the first time ever, I can say I love you while we fuck sober...

"Jim - Jim, I fucking _love_ you, Jim, I love you... _Fuck me_... please..."

 

 

_“Fuck - god - yes -“ I pant in between kisses._

_My mind is swimming at hearing ‘I love you’ from your lips._

_I grasp your face, and stare at you. “I fucking love you too, Tiger. *Turn over*.”_

_You kiss me heatedly, and I grab your shoulders and twist you around._

_My hands scrabble in my wash bag for the lube. I slather you and myself quickly, and prod your opening with my cock._

_I press my lips against your ear. “I fucking want you, Seb...” I breathe._

_My cock presses slowly into your arse, I bite your neck and lick up to your earlobe._

_As I push into you deeper, I growl into your ear, “After we annihilate those fuckers and get to the hotel and go on our date... *then* we can take our sweet time... I’m going to make you come so hard, hotel management will be sending someone up to the room to express concern. But for now... down and dirty, Sebastian...” I thrust into you to the hilt, and we both groan loudly._

 

 

You love me... you're saying it again... and I'm floating ten miles above the earth, I'm twelve foot high, I'm _invincible_... Gibilisco and Boesch don't stand a _chance_ , I'll eviscerate them, tear them limb from limb with my bare hands...

And you're handling me, positioning me on my hands and knees, taking me like I long to be taken - I want to feel you, Jim, I want to feel your desire for me...

I thought I wanted you before, but this is - falling in love has made me _need_ you, need you with heart and soul and body, crave you like I've never craved anything or anyone before.

And you feel that, or you feel the same, or both - you're not delaying, you are inside me, pushing inside me, deeper and deeper, and I am lost, lost in the white noise in my head, lost in my heart swelling to five times its normal size at the sound of your voice, lost in the sensation of you entering me, possessing me, claiming me as yours...

My groans sound unearthly as I accommodate the enormity of the feelings, I'm not used to this, have never experienced this, can't imagine being able to contain all this - I will be consumed by it, consumed by the love, the passion, the desire, the realization that it has _happened_ , we are here, in this blessed tent, and we are _together_ like we never were - and it is too much, man cannot gaze upon god without being destroyed, nor be fucked by him, but that's alright, what an ecstatic death...

 

 

_I turn your head around and kiss you, slipping my tongue into your mouth as I thrust into you._

_You moan into my mouth, and it's *so fucking hot*, I almost come then and there..._

_One arm snakes around your chest to hold you tight against me. With the other hand, I stroke you as I fuck you._

_I break off from the kiss. "Oh fuck, Sebastian..." I pant. "I love fucking you... so much..."_

_I bury myself in you over and over and over, and our gasps and groans fill the tent._

_"I love you... I love you..." I hear myself whispering in time with each thrust._

 

 

My entire body is supercharged with electricity; every thrust from you sends sparks all through me, it’s _never_ like this, I mean - sex with you is always a high-voltage affair, but today it reaches every nook and cranny of my body and soul, in a way I never knew existed.

You are inside me, around me, we are an unending cycle of love and passion, and you are panting that you _love_ me, James Motherfucking Moriarty loves me, he loves me in the bright light of day, no alcohol or drugs involved - I want to shout it to the world; I’m going to shout it at Gibilisco and Boesch, you just watch me; the last thing they’ll see in this world will be a Tiger in love -

“Jim oh fuck Jim, _yes_ , _fuck me_ , I love you Jim I _love you_...”

You are whispering, but I’m roaring, I want the forest to hear the magnificence being consummated in its midst, want the faeries to laugh at the success of their enchantments.

I may be a bit high. But it’s an entirely natural high, wholly and completely the result of you, Jim Moriarty, and the moves you make and the words you say.

 

 

_My eyes widen as I hear you shouting. I press my lips to your neck, your ear, your cheek._

_"I love you..." I pant. "I love you..."_

_I don't know where this side of me is coming from, I really fucking don't. How is it possible?_

_It's like I feel myself for the first time (since childhood, at least)... my feelings... my heart..._

_This should have been terrifying, *hideous*... and maybe there will be some of that, lurking behind a dark corner._

_but the only reason my feelings aren't a terror - is *you*..._

_youyouyou, Sebastian Moran..._

_"I love you..." I moan. "Come with me, Sebastian..."_

_My hand moves faster on your cock, and I press my head against yours, gasping._

 

 

Yes, I will come with you, I will come for you, my love, my lord, my life, my everything.

It's _never_ \- never been like this - I swear...

Oh fuck Jim...

My Jim... _My_ Jim...

Your moans, your gasps, your thrusts, your strokes - YOU...

I'm pretty sure I've cleared the area of wildcats for miles around with the roar that I give when I come. But I can't not - it's _so good_ \- I need to give it an outlet, or I will explode, explode with love, with lust, with delight -

Oh fuck _Jim_...

I feel you fill me as your pleasure shoots into me, the hot liquid filling me, making my own orgasm somehow even harder, faster, better...

I don't see, I don't hear, I am in a black cocoon of bliss, filled with only you...

Slowly, so slowly, the waves of ecstasy become gentler...

I may just survive this...

 

 

_Your orgasm is so intense, it almost eclipses mine..._

_Almost._

_I’m swept away by ecstasy as I shudder against your body, filling you with my semen, making you *mineminemine*, oh god... *Seb*..._

_And as I come, I listen to your sounds... increasing in volume and duration... *god*, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard..._

_Is this what you’ve been holding back??_

_I’ve collapsed against you, feeling myself soften as I pant against you._

_“Oh - Tiger -“ I moan, as I pull out of you. “I like your noises... *very much*..._

_I fall against the sleeping bag, pulling you down with me._

_“J’accuse! You’ve been holding out on me, Sebastian...” I push my finger into your chest. “I must insist you don’t hold anything back anymore,” I purr against your throat. “Or your performance review will suffer.. and *you* will suffer.”_

 

 

"I'll - make sure not to hold anything back any more..." I pant, sprawled as wide as the tent and you will allow.

Bloody hell. What just happened?

Oh yeah, we'd both had a wash... I chuckle.

"If me bathing in a forest stream has that effect on you, I think I'll try to get one for the apartment... or I'll have to take you camping more often..."

 

 

_"You're going to install a forest stream? Excellent. I expect to see you bathing in it daily. Mind there are no accompanying insects; I've seen quite enough for one lifetime!" I shudder, as I think back to all the times I've had to slap the evil critters away in the last what, twelve hours? Time has ceased to have any meaning. As if we've always been in the forest... we haven't *always* been in the forest, have we?_

_I look around the tent suspiciously. No... *no*. That's absurd. Calm down._

_It feels like it would be remarkably easy to go mad here... I could actually believe there are faeries lurking about. I look around suspiciously again - was that a giggle outside the tent??_

_*Stop that*. Everything's *fine*. I just haven't had my usual frame of reference since we got here - I haven't even looked at my laptop or my phone... oh god my *phone*... does it still have a charge??_

_I dive for my jacket pocket and look at the phone in disbelief._

_"It doesn't... have a signal... Why is there no signal? Oh god, I didn't think to look at it last night! Why didn't I look at it last night? Why didn't you remind me? What if there are messages I need to get to, Sebastian??" I wave the phone at you in horror._

 

 

“We’ll have signal again soon. Or not. Why, do you think Boesch sent a text to say he couldn’t make it? Please kill him in Berlin at your earliest convenience?”

You do not look in the mood for playful ribbing. In fact, I’ve never known you to be in the mood for playful ribbing ever. That’s never stopped me, though.

I heat up some water for more coffee and another quick wash, and start on my own sandwich, as you are dancing around holding your phone as high as you can in an effort to gain contact with the outside world.

“Taking up tai chi?” I ask.

 

 

_I glare at you, and muttering under my breath, I throw my phone into the tent._

_“Take me camping more often,” I grumble. “*Ha*. This was a one-time deal, and now it’s done. And somehow I’m sticky *again*! Let’s pack up and go, already! I desperately need to *murder* someone, and then I need some real coffee!”_

_You’re looking at me and shaking your head._

_“What?”_

 

 

"Nothing. I kind of liked this whole camping thing, to be honest," I smile. "Not so much the camping itself... but the effect it has on you - I don't know if I should ever let you enter a building ever again..."

Your look could strip paint. I shudder, only half mockingly, and feel how the water is doing. It's lukewarm - I pour some in a pan and dip a flannel in it. "Here you go - you can wash off the worst stickiness, and I'll make some more coffee. It's not going to be your high-class espresso, but it'll be warm and caffeinated, which is two great things for when you go killing."

I dip my own flannel in the stream. I'm not immersing myself again - just do the bits and pits and I'm good to go.

"So how do you want to do this - the normal way; I take out the bodyguards, you have a nice chat with the bad guys, we dispatch them?"

 

 

_I eye the pan, and take it gingerly - as if it were going to suddenly splash its contents at me._

_Well, the first time I get lovingly washed - and then I just get handed a pan of water? My camping experience is plummeting..._

_Oh... I know why. I'm not drinking. And oh yes, camping is a terrible thing. But I can't exactly get plastered before a killing spree, so I'll just have to glare and bear it._

_I dab the flannel against my sticky bits, and sigh forlornly as I think of big, spacious, clean showers... bathrooms with polished surfaces... gleaming tile floors..._

_I don't know what to do with the flannel when I'm done. I rinse it in the pan, dump the water, look around, and leave it with the pan by your camping stove. I'm sure you have a special way of handling your equipment or whatever, and packing it up. Wouldn't want to interfere with your system..._

_I head to the tent to get dressed. Getting dressed means one step closer to murder rampage and luxury accommodations... just hold on, Jim..._

 

 

You're not answering, just getting dressed looking like a thundercloud. I start packing up camp.

It's probably best to pack, then leave everything here, kill the guys, call the cleaners, come back, head back to the hotel, let you have a nice warm shower, hope it melts your fury and does not dissipate your newly-found lovingness.

"So - again, what's your strategy? How do you want to handle these guys?"

The water's boiling, so I make some more coffee, add loads of sugar to yours in the vain hope that it will sweeten you some, hand it to you.

 

 

_Ugh. More instant coffee._

_I take a morose sip. Well, it’s sweet enough to cause a sugar coma, so it will do..._

_Poor Tiger... you’re trying, and I’ve been a hellcat since I got up._

_I wander over to you, and wrap my arms around you._

_“Exactly what you said is perfect... you handle the bodyguards, while I deal with the...”_

_I trail off, looking at my arm. Then my other arm._

_“Bloodsucking motherfuckers...”_

_“What?” you ask, pulling back to look at me._

_“Bloodsucking - OH! Look at all of them!! Seb! Look at this!!”_

_I hold out my arms in outrage._

_“Covered! They’re covered in *bites*!!” I howl. “They’re fucking itchy!! if I scratch them, will they leave - “ I look at you in horror. “*Scars*??”_

 

 

"Ooooooh, we wouldn't want _scars!!_ " I say, slightly sarcastic. There are a few bites on you - not too many. I would hardly say 'covered'. But I'm not going to argue semantics with an angry Moriarty.

"Probably not, but you don't want to scratch them - they will take longer to heal, may get infected, and will only itch more. I have some after-bite..." I dig out my washbag, get out the stick, carefully put some liquid on each of your bites, pop the stick in your pocket. "Put some of this on whenever it itches. They'll disappear soon.”

I check my own arms - no, they decided you were the sweeter option, by the look of it.

 

 

_I watch you as you take care of my bites, slightly mollified. God, you really do take care of everything!! But then, it’s your fault that I have all these bites, so... you should._

_“They didn’t get *you*, I take it?” I say pointedly. “Why does anyone go out into the outdoors ever, if this is what waits for them... vicious little creatures!” I snap, not at you, but at the blue sky which I eye suspiciously._

_“Can we leave now?” I demand._

_God, I sound grouchy... “I have a date with the hottest boy I’ve ever seen, and I don’t want to be late...” I say, eyeing you._

_Better._

 

 

"What a coincidence, so have I... " I grin.

I look at my phone. "It's eleven, so Boesch will probably be arriving soon, or already be there. Let's pack up the tent and get moving."

You don't look like you're going to be any more help breaking down than setting up. I sigh, pull the sleeping bags and mattresses out, open the valves. "Could you roll those up, as tight as you can?"

I start collapsing the tent.

 

 

_I stare at you in indignation. What exactly am I paying you for, if I have to do all this *work*?_

_I open my mouth, and then I snap it shut. I have a feeling... if I say those words to you, you're going to be very annoyed with me? Possibly hurt?_

_And I care about that now? Is that right? I try to think through my hangover haze, my headache, my muscle weakness, my grumpiness..._

_Even with all this going on, apparently *I do*??_

_The thought of you feeling pain makes me want to *hurt* someone... make them pay. Only in this case, the culprit would be me._

_Jesus, this is fucking confusing..._

_You look at me standing and staring into space, and you roll your eyes and sigh._

_Oh, really? You think I'm a selfish bastard?_

_OK, *true*._

_But now I feel like I have something to prove, something about being a sweetheart, as well. And I don't know why that feels important, but fine. *Fine*. I can *do* this._

_I crouch on the dirty ground, trying not to fall over (which would ruin my killing outfit). Muttering under my breath, I start rolling up sleeping bags._

 

 

I _think_ my Kitten is a mite pissed off, but you're rolling up the sleeping bags. You're making a crap job of it, getting dirt in between the rolled-up bags, but at least you're rolling straight and tight. I can clean them when we're at home.

I fold down the tent and stash it into its bag, then turn round to see you fighting angrily with the sleeping mats. You have to sit on them to push the air out, but that might sully your pristine outfit (how are you going to keep it so pristine whilst sneaking up on the cabin, Jim?), so you're trying to get the air out by pushing with your hands and scowling fiercely. The scowl would make any person shrivel and die, but unfortunately doesn't work on inanimate objects. I'm tempted to stand and look, but I fear that at any moment you'll get out your gun and shoot a few extra air holes into the mats, which would be a waste, so I kindly offer to take over and roll them up, while you scowl at the forest in general.

I think you're being a bit ungrateful at the forest. Personally, for what it's given me, I want to nominate the forest for sainthood. I'll definitely become a sponsor of the Cairngorms Trust when we get back home.

Everything more or less rolled up and stowed away, I check my weapons, nod at you.

"Ready to kill, Kitten?"

 

 

_My head falls back and I sigh with relief. "God, yes. I need someone to kill..."_

_I look around the campsite. It feels so different with everything packed up. Like we were never here..._

_!!!_

_If anyone walked through here, they would never know the impossible thing that happened... that an assassin got through to a psychopath's armoured heart... that a psychopath fell in love._

_I look around and a flood of images moves through me. Me inadvertently throwing a flaming marshmallow at you... you throwing me over your shoulder and threatening to throw me in the stream... us - laughing drunkenly... sobbing in each other’s arms... making love under the stars..._

_My scowl disappears and my face softens. I walk over to you purposefully, and throw myself in your arms._

_"Stupid nature..." I mumble against your chest. "Stupid, lovely nature... I want to leave. I've wanted to leave since I got here! But now that we're leaving, I'm *sad*! How does that make any sense??" I demand._

_My arms tighten around you. "I don't know how to do this," I confess, squeezing my eyes tightly. "Love. Out there in the real world. It feels safer here. I'm glad we'll have some time in Inverness."_

_I look up at you. "I love you, Tiger. I'm glad you dragged me to this ridiculous, beautiful place. I thought I hated it and wanted to burn it down. I guess it can stay..." I say grudgingly, and grin at you._

 

 

I’m melting...

If you’re looking for me, I’m the Tiger-shaped puddle on the ground.

I can’t believe the transformation that has come over James Moriarty, criminal psychopath.

I mean, you’re still a criminal psychopath, I guess - but you are _so sweet_ with it. Are psychopaths allowed to be sweet? Or do we have to get a different diagnosis?

“I love you, my sweet Jim...” I manage to say. “I love this place... always will... because it gave me what I never thought I could have.

I know you didn't much rate the whole outdoors experience... let's camp indoors tonight, yeah? Same closeness and sweetness, but fewer insects, no eating on the ground, and a proper shower..."

I kiss you, then reluctantly let go. We have a job to do, after all...

I start in the direction of the cabin. After a few steps, I take your hand.

 


	11. Armed, Dangerous, and Quite Mad

_I smile at you, and from an outsider's perspective I imagine we must seem like partners going for a lovely hike during their camping trip. Except of course we're armed, dangerous and quite mad, well *I* am, and I'm going to use it to my advantage. Nothing throws people off like a mad villain, and it's *ever* so much fun..._

_Fucking Sherlock never even gleaned how much control I had over it. Not always, certainly - but around him? It was a sublime choreography, and beautifully fucking executed if I do say so myself. Idiot detective and his show-off deducing... what, did he think I was like that round the clock? When I was taking a shower in the morning? When I was getting ready for bed? Did he think at breakfast I engaged in over-the-top soliloquies as I was asking my bodyguard to pass the sugar? *God*, I enjoyed keeping him guessing about us... I dropped so many red herrings in with the clues, it must have been terribly confusing... I'm about to open my mouth to reminisce, but I snap it shut again. You didn't exactly enjoy my obsession with the mop-haired sleuth._

_Fine. I'll think about something else for the rest of the way. I can be quiet..._

_"How much longer, Tiger?" I stage-whisper at you._

 

 

"About thirty minutes, Kitten. No need to whisper," I grin.

"Thirty minutes!?" you exclaim, shocked.

"Well, yes - we needed to be far enough away. Wouldn't want them to feel threatened and come check us out, would we?"

We trek through the woods, more serious now - work is work and though we've done this a million times, I can sense that you're worried about me, which is _adorable_. You're not talking much, though, and from years of experience I know to not start a conversation when you are in thought.

As we near the cabin, we stay low and quiet. I turn to you.

"You stay here. I'll go nearer, check if Boesch is there, head in, kill the bodyguards, then you come in. OK?"

 

 

_"Yes, fine, good..." I throw you one more concerned look, but I have to stay confident in your abilities or I will cripple myself with worry - which is the opposite of what we need to stay alive._

_You're staring back at me, unsure._

_I push aside worry, shove away fear, and dig deep for darkness - not just my desire to do harm and be smug about it, but my unassailable belief that everything will work out exactly as I want it to, because there's no other fucking choice._

_My eyes close and I shiver as I feel the darkness rise up and over me, and fall down upon me like a gleaming robe trimmed in ermine._

_I exhale slowly, and open my eyes._

_"Oh the inimitable delight of being bad men..." I purr. "But remember, Tiger... We are always, without question, the bad men who walk away. Now *go*... make me wild with desire for you, darling..." I grin at you madly, and my tongue darts out over my lips._

 

 

Ah, good, there's my Moriarty - that's the face I know and love, which I'm used to seeing before I go into a job. I grin at you, pull you close, give you a filthy kiss. "See you in a bit -"

I can say this -

"- _my love_."

I let go, set off in the direction of the cabin. When I reach a good vantage point I take out my binoculars and aim them at the little building.

Boesch, the Gibilisco brothers, and two bodyguards are in the living room. Boesch and Andrea are talking, Bernardo is sitting nearby but not joining in. The bodyguards are sitting at a table, browsing their phones. Two other bodyguards are in the kitchen, making tea, chatting, laughing. It appears to all be very cosy and amiable...

I make my way around the cabin to approach from the other side. There's the front door, a bedroom which looks empty, another window with the curtain drawn - I assume the other bedroom.

I rush over, move around the side to the door to the kitchen. Right. Concentrate, soldier. You know exactly what you're going to do - now do it. Calm and alert. Breath in. Go.

I kick in the door, shoot the two bodyguards in the kitchen, move to the side of the door to the living room. The two in the living room are getting up, reaching for their guns - one. two. down.

Move around the wall. They're all reaching for their guns as well. Shoot Bernardo. "Hands up and don't move!" Boesch moves up his empty hands. Gibilisco is frozen, staring at his brother. "Hands _up_ , Gibilisco!" He obeys, slowly.

No sounds from the rest of the house.

I move to Boesch, open his jacket, take his gun out of its holster, throw it across the floor, then do the same with Gibilisco. Neither have any other weapon. "Get up." They do. "Head to the hallway. You first, Guenther. Andrea right behind him."

We check the other rooms, which are all empty. I lead the two back into the living room, where I have them sit on two chairs, cuff their hands behind their backs.

Satisfied that all is clear, I give the thumbs up to the window. After a few moments, I see you amble towards the house. Not a hair out of place, you look as sharp as if you have just walked out of the barbershop. Unhurried, a satisfied hint of a smirk on your face - I feel a lump appear in my throat, like the first time I saw you, and realized I was finally meeting the fabled Moriarty. You look -

 _magnificent_.

 

 

_I watch carefully through the window... you're moving like liquid, putting men down effortlessly. It's like you're performing a glorious dance for me and me alone. Within moments, you've neutralized all potential threats, secured the space, and herded the two idiots into the living room._

_When you give me the all-clear, I'm almost ready to run in from the built-up anticipation... but, no. It's important to savour these moments..._

_When I saunter into the house, I see you standing lethal and vigilant, waiting for me. My eyes flicker over to yours, and I gaze at you with pleasure before turning my smile towards Boesch and Gibilisco._

_"Guenther! Andrea! So this is the famed cabin that no one knows the location of! Oh, make that 'no one *knew*’... but I hardly count as just anyone, do I..."_

_"Jim..." Boesch begins uneasily._

_"In fact, I'm rather hurt that I didn't receive an invitation to the big meeting today!" I throw a comical sad face at the two men, and see you smile faintly. "Oh, but I suppose it was because of the whole 'screwing me over' plan, that would have been terribly *awkward* to discuss with me in the room! Can you imagine?" Now my face turns ridiculously horrified, and you look like you're trying not to snicker. You fail._

_"'So let's discuss the plan to screw Moriarty over and have him killed!' 'Yes, let's! Oh... so sorry Jim, you probably shouldn't *be here for this*!!" I shout the last few words in a fury. The two men wince, and fear fills their eyes._

_"Or maybe it's because you thought I wouldn't enjoy being in the great outdoors?" I ask cheerfully. "Well, you'd never believe it, but Sebastian and I *went camping* last night!! And there were such highs and lows, I don't even know where to begin!"_

_I smirk at you. "Wasn't it a hoot, Sebastian?"_

 

 

You are putting the fear of Moriarty into the two guys, which is a step up from the fear of god, and I can't help it, I have to smile - and eventually laugh. Fuck, you _are_ magnificent. No one could see you like this without being in awe...

But it's odd to see this side of you again - you are yourself again, or - that yourself that I recognize, the man I work for, the man who owns me - and I can't see the man I spent the night with, like that was a different person, someone who looks a bit like you, but who acts entirely different, and a fear shoots through me like an icy current - is he gone? Did I dream him? Was it a short whim, to be discarded now you are back out of the woods?

And then - you refer to us camping, and look at me, with such tenderness in your eyes, just peeking out through the Moriarty face - god, I've never seen _anyone_ who came anywhere close to your versatility with expressions. You are showing your insane psychopath face to these two, while at the same time giving me a glimpse of the you I've spent the night with - and I feel ten miles high.

Oh god - can I have this _both_? Magnificent Moriarty and Sweet Jim, in one intoxicating package, scaring the world and loving me -

You have flirted with me in front of others before, but that was just to make them uncomfortable. This is you sending me a quick signal - showing me that despite your Moriartishness, you're still the man I went camping with.

I smile lazily. "It was a _tremendous_ hoot. I've never been on a better camping trip in my life - and I've been taken camping by Her Majesty's Special Forces. Not a par on the Cairngorms I have to say. I commend you on your taste..."

 

 

_I start to wander around the room. "Yes, at first I hated it with a fiery passion... and that's not an exaggeration, I actually did consider burning it down. The forest, I mean. But I think that would have upset Sebastian, and it pretty much would have blown the surprise."_

_I walk towards Boesch and Gibilisco, and stick my face close to theirs._

_"Surprise..." I crow, grinning wildly._

_"Jim, listen-" Boesch says in a desperate voice. "It's not what you think-"_

_"Not what I think! What could it be then... performance art? A prank?" I turn to you, with a bewildered expression. "As performance art goes, it's a little high-concept for me. It's going right over my head, and you two are complete imbeciles, so that can't be it... Now, if it's a prank, it's a good one. Because you got me... you *really got me*. But... I don't know, the cabin in the woods, all those details we uncovered about your plot... it's a bit much, darling. Remember when we discovered the plot, Sebastian? It's a blur to me now because of the whole flying into a homicidal rage, but do you recall if I found it funny?" I grin at you, and deliver a vicious punch to Boesch's stomach._

 

 

"I don't recall any amusement on your part, Sir," I reply. "In fact, I do seem to remember you being quite irate at the time. Quite rightfully so, Sir, if you ask me."

Your face is very close to Boesch's, who is reeling from the punch. Gibilisco is trying to move out of the way carefully. I keep my gun trained on him - no wrong moves, Andrea. The thing with guys who know they are going to die is that they sometimes can act out in unexpected ways.

 

 

_"Oh yes, now it's coming back to me... you had to physically stop me from heading out in broad daylight with an assault rifle. I *was* rather irate, wasn't I?" I giggle. "After all, I *told you two* that if you ever double-crossed me, then my face was the last thing you'd ever see... that would be incentive enough for most to stay true to our deal, but *no* - you took it upon yourselves to not only go behind my back and cheat me, but... plot my death? **Tsk Tsk.." I shake my finger at them. "You should have killed me *first*... and Sebastian too, because he would have come for you like a Fury unleashed. Isn't that so, darling?"_

_The darkness that crosses your face is not for their benefit, I know._

_"Like something from a bloody nightmare, Sir," you say in a tight voice._

_"Oh, now you've gone and made me *upset* my bodyguard," I say, outraged. "Do you know why that matters to me, darlings? Shall we tell them, Tiger?" I give you a cheeky smile. "I sense we can trust them to take this little secret to their graves... and I'm *longing* to share our good news with someone... shall I?"_

_You smile at me faintly, still vigilant. "Whatever you want, Jim..."_

_"Guenther! Andrea! I'm so excited I can barely sit still! Sebastian and I are going on our first date tonight...and I could not be happier. I mean, look at him! *I said, look at him*!" I roar, and then bat my eyelashes at you. "Isn't he the dreamiest boyfriend ever??"_

_Our bewildered captives blink at you as you stare them down with cold rage and malice, and I burst out laughing._

 

 

Poor lads. You love giving a good show before people die... I've seen you recite the monologue from Hamlet and asking if they understood the subtleties of meaning... or the 'I'm completely insane' spiel... or indeed the entirely inappropriately sexual one, leaving me _so_ frustrated when you didn't follow up...

Tonight you better put out, James Moriarty...

But this is not about sex, it's about love. And god - no wonder they're looking so baffled. Jim Moriarty doing love... they must believe you're putting it on.

Oh why not - I'm always playing the straight man (pun not intended) to your diva, but why not join in for a change? Might be fun... especially when we're not acting...

"Oh, shush, darling," I smile at you, batting my hand. " _You_ are the dreamy one... truly, mostly the stuff of nightmares... but to be really honest with you, also the occasional wet dream.

I mean, come on guys, isn't Jim the hottest guy you've ever seen?"

 

 

_I grin at your performance. It's so much more fun when you join in! Boesch and Gibilisco are blinking in confusion._

_"Are you - wait, *what*? What the fuck is going on??" Boesch demands, sounding blustery. The tension seems to have tipped him over the breaking point._

_"What's *going on*? I *told you*, I'm sharing our good news…" I look at them, seemingly injured. "Sebastian!" I complain, scowling. "Why aren't they happy for us?? Do they think this is a *joke*?"_

_I turn to you, smiling slyly. "Perhaps a demonstration?"_

 

 

“Great idea, Boss...” I grin at you, and you skip (really, Jim?!) into my arms, kissing me like you mean it.

Mmmm... I keep an eye on our guys, of course, but I am pleasantly moved by your open affection - you’re not playing a role, you’re really showing your real self... not that these nitwits would realize...

Boesch’ face is getting red, Gibilisco is looking away.

“Guys. You’re not paying attention…” you say, disappointed.

 

 

_"I think they just don't care, baby..." You shrug and shake your head at me sadly._

_"*Don't care*?" I demand. "This is a real-life epic romance happening right before your very eyes... and you as criminal types should appreciate it! Well, this is truly disappointing..." I say in a petulant voice._

_I flash you a sly smile, and pull you towards the sofa. "Well, this requires more of a demonstration, I suppose..."_

_"It really doesn't!" Boesch snaps. Gibilisco is looking at us in horror._

_I push you into a sitting position on the sofa and straddle your lap. "Apparently *it does*," I snap back._

_Your eyes flicker to our panicking prisoners before looking back at me. I pull you by your dog tags into a deep kiss. I plaster myself against your body, and kiss your neck._

_"Oh! Tiger... that was delicious... Keep that up and you'll *definitely* get lucky tonight..." I lick my lips, and you stare at me hungrily before looking back at the prisoners._

_Right. Prisoners._

_I turn to stare at them, and they both look away quickly._

_"Tiger!" I yell, outraged. "We're showing them *our love* and they can't even be bothered to *look*!"_

_"Enough of this!" Boesch shouts back. "We're very sorry, alright? What can we do to make this right??"_

 

 

I smile. “Snapped already, Guenther? I’d have expected you to put up more of a resistance than this.”

He scowls at me, not sure what to make of me. I confuse people - they know you are insane and unpredictable, and they know I’m your loyal lieutenant, they know you fuck me, and might even suspect I fuck you occasionally. Most people prefer to interact with me, as they seem to think I’m the sane one, and by the time they get to the stage where they get to deal with either of us, they’re well aware that they would much rather not meet you.

I have a reputation to be a ruthless killer - fair enough - but at least one that gets the job done, rather than engaging in sick games for my own pleasure.

And they’re right - I only engage in sick games for your pleasure.

“I don’t know, Guenther...” I muse. “What can you do to make up conspiring against the King?”

I stroke your cheek lovingly.

“The King I love... the King I’m going on a _date_ with... aren’t you excited for us? We’ve never been on a date before... not a real one...

oh! You’ve been around the block a few times... have you got any tips on great places for a first date?”

He looks at me, speechless.

“Oh. Well, I guess Germans aren’t known for their romantic nature... Andrea! You’re Italian, you guys invented romance - what should one do on a first date? Should I pick him some flowers? Chocolate? Where to take him? Film is out - I don’t want to be sitting in the dark when I have such a beautiful face to gaze on...

Come on, help me out here?”

 

 

_I'm grinning at you during your performance. Awww… if I hadn't already fallen in love with you, I'd be a heart-eyed Disney princess by now._

_Andrea blinks. "Dinner and opera," he mumbles._

_Guenther makes a disgusted sound._

_"If you don't have any suggestions, you can't shoot down somebody else's! It's *impolite*!" I shout as I stalk towards him, and backhand him across the face. "Now Andrea, I appreciate the idea. You clearly know how to impress the... ladies? Don't want to assume... But we would still be sitting in the dark, not interacting. Any other romantic ideas for two criminals in love?"_

_"Blow jobs in an alley by the bins?" Guenther says in a nasty tone. Andrea winces._

_"Now, blow jobs in an alley are fun, but I did specify *romantic* ideas, honey," I chide. "But then, you always did have a problem with instructions..." I smile pleasantly at him, and shoot him in the groin. He screams in pain and stares at the blood spreading across his pants. Andrea shuts his eyes tightly and starts to pray in Italian._

_"A blow job in an alley is sounding pretty good right now, isn't it!" I purr._

_"Andrea! Stop your bead-mumbling, and give me another suggestion!"_

_"I don't know!!" he shrieks._

_"Tre... Due..." I count loudly, over Guenther's loud shouts of pain._

_"Dinner, going for a walk, stopping for gelato! Buy a rose for him! Ask him for a slow dance in your hotel room!" he shouts and closes his eyes tightly._

_We look at each other, and I raise an eyebrow. I shake my gun at Andrea. "*That one*. Sebastian, I want *that*."_

_You laugh affectionately. "You got it, Boss..."_

_"Well, it's Italy for the win! Your country's reputation is safe, thanks to you! Sebastian, shall we let him go? I'm feeling like a romantic sweetie-pie now..."_

_Andrea breaks down sobbing. "Grazie mille..."_

_Guenther, now sweating profusely, says through gritted teeth. "I need medical attention..."_

_"Not you, honey..." I shoot him in the head._

_As Boesch's body falls to the ground with a loud thump, Andrea's head drops down, and he continues to weep. I pat his shoulder. "There, there... You're going back to Italy now, and all this will be behind you soon. I'd like you to do a favour for me..."_

_"Anything," he sobs._

_"Well, I just realised... we may not be able to find gelato in Inverness! No, don't cry, darling... we can make do with ice cream for tonight. But I'd like you to open up a gelato shop. High-end, please. Something swanky - I'm picturing red and black decor..._

_And one day soon, Sebastian and I will have a romantic evening in Rome, and maybe we'll even go to the opera as you first suggested. And we'll visit you and see how your new life is going... you can be involved with crime within your own country, if you wish. But if I hear one word about you being involved in *anything* international... well then, we'll pay you a *very different visit*... capisce?"_

_"Yes, yes," he cries. "I'll do as you say..."_

_I chuckle and look at you. You're shaking your head with an amused expression. "Well, then... Sebastian? Shall we arrange a car to take Andrea to the airport? And in the meantime he can sit here and think about what he's done... I don't know about you, but I'm *more* than ready for our date..."_

_I walk up to you, and kiss your lips longingly._

 

 

I melt into your kiss, close my eyes, purr. “Done?” I whisper against your lips. “Yeah,” you nod.

I shoot Andrea through the head.

“No one conspires against my _boyfriend_ and lives,” I tell his collapsing body.

You giggle. “Oh _Sebastian_... you’re such a _romantic_...”

We kiss deep and longingly. I do want you... but not here, not now. Not that we’ve never shagged in a room with bodies before - you even used blood as lube on one occasion (not the best idea but it was fucking hot) - but I promised you a _date_ , and by god, you’re going to have one. Dinner. Ice cream. A red rose. And a slow dance in our hotel room. I never expected that those ballroom dancing lessons would pay off.

And then... anything you want.

We step outside, hand in hand. I look at the trees, under a canopy of rushing clouds. The Cairngorms... magical woods wonderland, which has changed the most dangerous psychopath in the world into the most dangerous psychopath in the world in love.

I take a deep breath of the clear air. I have never felt better.

James Moriarty, you are going on the first date of your life, and it’s going to be magnificent.

 

 

_We step out of the cabin, and I take a deep breath of fresh air as we head towards your bike. Grudgingly, I admire the hushed beauty of the green, mossy forest. Thanks, trees (you too, faeries... I haven’t forgotten you either)... You brought me my Tiger, and I’ll never forget that... even though I’m not a fan of your stupid insect tenants._

 

_On the bike, we kiss and grin at each other before putting on our helmets, and then we’re off in a roaring cloud of dirt._

 

_The ride is long and annoying, but all I can think about is the evening ahead..._

 

_I see us giggling in a pub, you with your lager, me with my wine..._

 

_Strolling in Inverness, hand in hand..._

 

_Right on cue, an older woman is selling roses, and you insist on buying me one. (God help me, I think I blush.)_

 

_Then we stop for ice cream... I settle on cookies and cream; you choose rocky road. You keep stealing licks of mine and getting swatted, yelled at, and finally ice cream squashed into your face - which you promptly rub against my cheek, making me shriek._

 

_In the hotel room. you say you’ll choose a song for us to slow dance to, and I’m dying to know which one you’ll choose. It’s a song I remember from years ago - Stay Together by Suede._

 

_I listen to the lyrics dreamily as you spin me around the floor._

 

Let’s stay together, let’s stay

These days are ours

Let’s stay together

Two hearts under the skyscrapers

 

_At least the song is clearly set in the city, I think, smirking. You know your little psycho well, Tiger..._

 

_Later in bed, lying naked in the strong circle of your arms, I whisper to you... “I’m glad we went camping, Tiger. But hush, don’t tell Sebastian... he’d be insufferably smug, and I’d have to punish him severely.”_

 

_You chuckle. “We’ll see...”_

 

_“*We’ll see*? Oh, is that what your new boyfriend status inspires in you - the audacity of countermanding my orders?” I purr._

 

_“Maybe... What are you going to do about it, psycho boyfriend?” you whisper into my ear, making me shiver._

 

_“Oh, I don’t know... I suppose I’ll clear our schedules for a week, so we can deal with this little insurrection...” I say lazily._

 

_“Mmm...” you kiss along my neck. “I’m afraid I’m unruly to the bone, darling...”_

 

_“*I’ll* handle your unruly bone, honey,” I say archly, making you laugh. “Oh Sebastian,” I murmur as I roll onto you. “I suspect our second date is going to feature a hell of a lot more kink... and involve a good deal more yelling by you.”_

 

_“Oh no," you protest, as I push your wrists down on the mattress. "Unhand me, you adorable brute!"_

 

_"Never," I whisper. "You're my prisoner now... boyfriend, I mean. And if you think date #2 is intense, just wait until date #3..."_

_"Just how many - mmm - dates have you - ah, planned?" you murmur, in between kisses._

 

_"As many as it takes, my darling Tiger..." I purr, and when we kiss, I can almost imagine us back at the campsite, by the fire and under the stars. I sigh dreamily. "I love you, Sebastian..." I whisper, and then you've rolled me over and you're whispering the same to me, kissing me back, and Jim and Sebastian's First Date gets a good deal more heated, noisy, and shiver-inducing as I show you everything I learned from my night camping with a Tiger in the Cairngorms._

 


End file.
